


The Undiluted Truth

by Lorde_Shadowz



Series: Prince of Serpents [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Bet You Never Saw That Coming), Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Familiars, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Slytherins, Hannah and Susan are the Best, Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Helpful Lily Evans, Hufflepuff & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Hufflepuff Pride, I Cannot Express How Important Snakes Are, James Potter Bashing, Jewel is a Good Familiar, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Oblivious Severus Snape, Padma and Parvati Help Save the World, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Snake Familiars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: When Hagrid takes Harry to his vault for the first time, he finds a letter from his mum in his vault, which contains secrets which shape all his future years at Hogwarts. Secrets that will become very hard to hide far too soon.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Prince of Serpents [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931227
Comments: 65
Kudos: 397





	1. A Letter

Harry nervously followed the big man, Hagrid, up to the banking counter, trying not to stare at the long-fingered, warped creatures that were rushing back and fourth, cashing Wizarding checks and testing pearls to ensure that they were not transfigured from pebbles.

At last, they were in front of a goblin teller. Hagrid didn't mince words."I've cum to take 'Arry Potter 'ere to 'is vault, and then I need the you-know-what in vault 713. 'Ogwarts business."

A nod, then the goblin held out his? hand. Goblins were evidently neither cordial nor effusive beings. "His key?"

Hagrid fished around in his deep pockets, pulling out moldy dog biscuits, Wizarding change, scraps of paper, and so on, and pouring them out onto the counter. The goblin wrinkled his? nose, but Hagrid only rummaged around a little longer before finally coming up with a tiny golden key. The goblin took it with a grunt.

"Griphook!" he called. A smaller goblin ran over.

"Chabring sokk nirae," the teller told him. Harry had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was, Griphook seemed to understand, because he nodded and motioned them to follow.

After leaving the main lobby, they went down several progressively narrower and lower corridors, lit by torchlight, before piling into a little cart and rattling at a nauseating speed on a track that seemed to lead into the very heart of Gringotts, ducking stalactites along the way. Harry swore he saw dragons breathing fire through the iron grates that shielded some of the more strongly-protected vaults, but when he tried to lean out and look, Hagrid dragged him back in the cart by the scruff of his neck.

At last, the cart screeched to a stop that was, if anything, more sickening than the previous speed, and Harry and a sick-looking Hagrid staggered out of the cart while Griphook gave a toothy grin at their discomfort. After the two of them had somewhat caught their breath, Griphook opened the vault and Harry stared in pure shock at the piles and piles of Wizarding money. The Dursleys would have been green with envy...provided Harry would be stupid enough to let them know about his inheritance, which he was not. No doubt the Dursleys' hatred of all things magical would not extend to money. Speaking of, why _was_ he at the Dursleys if he was rich and famous? Harry might have stood there all day, but Griphook gruffly told him to hurry up then, so Harry pushed the worrying thought to the back of his mind to ponder later.

Hesitantly Harry walked in and gathered some of the gold into his pockets while Hagrid was still catching his breath outside, still staring in awe with wide green eyes. After he'd gotten what he hoped was a large enough amount for his school supplies, he was about to leave his vault when he saw it.

It was a yellowing, blotchy envelope, which looked as if it was older than him, and when he curiously picked it up, he saw that it had his name on it written in beautiful green ink. Harry stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands. Could it be from his parents?

"'Arry! Y'all right there?"

Harry hastily stuffed the envelope in his pocket, somehow not wanting anyone else to see it. He wasn't even sure he was supposed to be taking it, but it was in his vault, and he couldn't just pass up the chance to read anything his parents might have written. Without another word, he obediently left the vault, taking both letter and gold with him. And then they were rocketing deeper still into the bowels of the underground levels, before stopping at another, obviously high security vault.

Here Griphook stroked the door with one long finger, letting the door melt away, ("Now't but a Gringotts goblin can do that," Hagrid commented) and, that said, he slipped into the vault. Harry peeked in after him, but unlike his own vault, this was entirely empty...well...except for a small package wrapped in brown paper, which Hagrid said was "'Ogwarts business" and refused to elaborate. Harry might have been more curious if he had not been obsessing over what his envelope might contain.

After the long, precarious journey back to the land of the living, Harry and his escort stumbled out, blinking, into the mid-afternoon sunlight, Harry staring around at all the beautiful shops and such. He might have stood there forever, looking at the wizards walking to and fro, when a still rather pale-looking Hagrid asked if he wouldn't mind going into Madame Malkin's Robes alone, as he needed a drink. Harry obliged.

Madame Malkin was a plump, no-nonsense witch, who thankfully did not make a fuss over him because of his scar, and he got done relatively quickly, except that one of the other boys being fitted, a white-blond with elegant everyday robes and an arrogant demeanor, nearly bowled him over with his casual comments about things Harry hadn't even heard of, much less formed opinions about.

Hagrid came back shortly with two ice cream cones (raspberry and covered with nuts, which Harry had never had before), and waited outside for Harry to finish. No one had ever done that for him before. Then they collected the rest of the supplies, dragonskin gloves and a telescope and all sorts of herbs and seeds and pickled things from the apothecary, as well as a cauldron (Harry wanted a golden one, but Hagrid wouldn't let him buy it- "It says pewter on yer list"-) And then they finally got his wand.

Harry had been looking forward to getting a magic wand from the moment he learned that he was a wizard, but his mood fell considerably when he and Hagrid actually went to buy his wand. Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker, had protruberant silver eyes and a creepy, omniscient sense about him that made Harry shiver. He didn't particularly cheer up when Ollivander told him his wand was 'twinned' with the wand of the evil wizard who killed his parents, as well as many others. Even going to the pet shop afterward (where Hagrid bought him a beautiful white owl and Harry managed to buy a little black snake with eyes like black diamonds, because it made cute. snarky remarks in his general vicinity- not that he told him that, considering how the shopkeeper reacted when he mentioned that it talked) did not completely cheer him up.

The end of the trip was still too soon. Hagrid dropped him off at #4 Privet Drive, where Aunt Petunia dragged Harry inside ("Don't let the neighbors see!") and sent him straight to his room after letting him drink out of the tap. Harry sighed as the locks clicked, but he was not as depressed as he would ordinarily be, because he knew there was an end in sight. Soon he would be going to Hogwarts!

An hour passed. Harry tensed as he heard his uncle's heavy tread clomping up the stairs like a pigmy elephant, but after his uncle went by without halting by Harry's door to bang on it and yell for "the freak" to come make (and maybe, if he was lucky, eat) dinner, Harry relaxed. He dug in his bags to give the owl (newly christened Hedwig) and the snake (Jewel) their mice, and got out some leftovers from lunch with Hagrid.

But as he sank down on his thin bed to eat, he heard a papery-thin crunch. And remembered the letter.

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry drew out the now rumpled letter, bearing his name, and drew it out of it's envelope with trembling fingers. A loopy script, inked in dark, forest green ink covered every inch of the yellowed paper, and he could faintly smell the scent of water lily perfume. Harry stared down at the letter, hardly daring to touch it for fear of smudging it. Finally, when he couldn't bear it any longer, he adjusted his glasses and bent over the letter. And slowly, as if savoring a chocolate that was steadily melting in the sun, he began to read.

_My dearest baby,_ (the letter read)

_I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you are. If I could have my way, you would be sitting with me and your father as I tell you these things, but in case I do not survive, I want you to know the things that I've written here. I would like to think that this is foolish, and that this letter will just crumble to dust in your trust vault, or become a curiosity to your grandchildren, but something tells me that I will not survive, and these things should not be forgotten._

_The first thing you need to know is that I am not a muggleborn, whatever my husband leads you to believe. I was not able to take an inheritance test before my marriage, and James didn't allow me to take an official, documented test afterwards- probably because I could have contested the marriage if I'd known- but I had my friend brew me an illegal Heritance Tincture, and discovered that I, and by extension you, are descended from Salazar Slytherin- you might even be a parselmouth, or speaker of snakes._ ('Was _that_ what it was called?' Harry thought) _Do not_ _tell James if this is the case; parselmouths are not well liked in the Wizarding world, and James in particular will not be pleased. I don't want you to be hurt._

_The second thing you need to know is that James Potter is not your father._

Harry had to stop and re-read that line several times. It wasn't as if he knew his father, so he wasn't grief-stricken or in denial, but he was still somewhat surprised. If James Potter wasn't his father, then who was, and why had they never come to rescue him? Unless whoever it was was dead too? He went on.

_This will probably come as a big surprise, especially if James raised you, and before you go any further I want you to know that I love you no matter what, and nothing I'm about to say will change this._

Harry frowned. From what it sounded like, his mum expected that he had been raised by his father- by James, actually. Harry was far from stupid, and something told him that he would not like everything that he was going to learn today. Why had his mum married James- she didn't actually seem to like him, and if he was not even his dad, then what was going on?

_You might as well know that I never wanted to marry James. I_ did _have a crush on his best friend Sirius, but James himself was always too big-headed and inclined to bullying._ (Harry winced, thinking of Dudley) _James, however, wanted to marry me, so he used an old pureblood marriage law to make me marry him. As for your real father...it's complicated. I was always friends with him, since when we were nine, but I never thought of him as more than a friend, and when we went to Hogwarts together we got sorted into different houses, straining our friendship still further. He was smart, funny, and very competent...but I didn't like the boys he was hanging out with, and he always had a vicious, dark streak that made me nervous. In my- our- fifth year, our friendship died a painful end after I defended him when James and his friends were bullying him, and he called me a mudblood._

_I started fancying him in seventh year, but by that point he had friends in a terrorist group called the Death Eaters who targeted muggleborns, and when I learned that he had actually joined, I had to let him go. That and James did not like me to associate with him._

_I thought, when he came back after the first revel that I could save him. He wanted out, and I couldn't blame him; he told me that he joined because his housemates had given him an ultimatum- either he join the Death Eaters or he would be made to "commit suicide" or meet with "an unfortunate accident". Not only that, but he had been offered patronage for his Potions and Defense masteries, and he couldn't afford not to take the opportunity. I was worried for him, even if there was a little part of me that worried that he was lying to me, and that he really did join the Death Eaters by choice. But we couldn't associate as long as long as he was a Death Eater, and there's no way out once you are branded. We met in secret a few more times after the meetings. Then James forced me to marry him, and I was no longer allowed to talk to your father._

_It was one day in late September when I met Severus Snape for the last time. It was a farewell, of sorts. Alice Longbottom- a school friend of mine- and I were out shopping together since James was away overnight at a Quidditch game in Peru; the first time I had left the manor in months. I met him in The Leaky Cauldron, and, in a moment of rebellion, stopped to talk to him. Long story short, we had far to much firewhiskey to return by floo, so I ended up staying the night at the Leaky._

_I was so happy when I learned I was pregnant. You were so beautiful when you were born, but I knew immediately who your father was, and only then was I afraid. In the end, I cast a full body glamour, making you look almost like a twin of James, except with my eyes, and I don't think James ever knew, or he probably would have hurt both of us. The glamour is an old Hungarian disguise spell called "Teljes alruhaban" and there is no British counter; the only counter I've heard of is in the same language, (vege a varazskatnak), which will break the spell. To replace the glamour, since you won't have any of James's blood to complete it, you will probably need to use more ordinary glamour spells._

Harry stopped dead. He had a sneaking suspicion of what a glamour was- did that mean that the pale face that always stared back at him out of every mirror was not actually his own? The thought was definitely frightening, and he had to stop for a few moments before he could recover himself enough to go on.

_I hope, now, that you will forgive me for my deception. If by this point James has gotten rid of me in favor of a pureblood, I hope you at least find it in your heart to still think of me as mum. But if, as is also likely, you are an orphan- there is, after all, a war going on between the Death Eaters and Magical Britain as a whole- I want you to know that you are loved, and that you might possibly still have living family._

'Got rid of me in favor of a pureblood?' Harry _definitely_ didn't like the sound of that.

_You don't have to tell Sev who you really are, if he's even still alive, but I know that he would want to get to know you. He is a good man, if not an easy man to get along with, and he is loyal to a fault, if not always kind- he would never betray you, although it will likely be difficult to break through the shell he has built around himself. I implore you to find him, if he is still alive, but in the end that is at your discretion. Enclosed here also are my notes for a spell to remove his Death Eater brand, also- I was never able to test it._

_Also, if Dumbledore is alive and at Hogwarts when you go there for your first year, I want you to be on your guard. He is very manipulative, and he uses compulsion and coercion spells on the students that he doesn't trust, to keep him loyal to him; try to make sure you get into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, so you're under the radar, and don't ever meet his eye until you've learned rudimentary occlumensy, or he'll read your mind. Also don't eat any candies or tea he offers you in his office; it's usually laced with something- Sev palmed some on various occasions and tested them, and they contain things as diverse as loyalty potions to truth serum._

Harry paused to digest that bit. Dumbledore as in Albus Dumbledore? Headmaster of Hogwarts? What on earth was he getting into?

_Actually, if Dumbledore is alive at_ all _, be careful. He's good with words, and he likes to act like a sweet old grandfather, but he'll let you rot in Azkaban_ (What's that?) _if it's part of his plan for the "Greater Good". He'll also guilt trip you, and he dispenses unequal justice; Sirius Black tricked an enemy of his into going into the Forbidden Forest when there's a transformed werewolf out, and got lines for his "prank", whereas the boy who was almost killed lost a hundred points for being out after curfew, to offer one example._

_He is actually the reason James and I are in hiding at the moment- one of his Death Eater spies heard that there was a prophecy (James never told me the full text) about a child born at the end of July, like yourself and Neville Longbottom, who would have the power to defeat Voldemort, the head of the terrorist organization, and that Voldie was going to hunt all of them down, so he told James to put the cottage at Godric's Hollow under the_ Fidelius Charm _, which means only those who know the secret can find it, and the only one who can tell anyone else the secret is the Secret Keeper. Dumbledore told us that Sirius, the one we were going to use, was to obvious, and to pick a man named Peter Pettigrew, one of James's friends. James agreed. I am afraid. Peter is weak- they could make him tell them the location with only a little firewhiskey or a few threats, and besides, I think he's a Death Eater. James says I'm paranoid. But I know I'm right, and I'm suspicious that neither James nor Dumbledore is even listening to me._

After he had finished the letter, Harry simply sat there, mulling it over for a long time, heedless of the purple and gold twilight outside his window. Then he picked it up, rereading bits until it was too dark to see, even with his glasses. He was not even close to understanding it all, but what he did understand petrified him. The great, magical world he had been introduced to that morning suddenly seemed a whole lot darker, and a whole lot more dangerous. But as frightened as he now was, he was also excited. Soon he would be entering a world that was his birth-right, to learn magic, escape the Dursleys, and possibly, just possibly, find a father. Now if he could only figure out just what all those magical words meant!


	2. The Hogwarts Express

The rest of the summer nearly flew by for Harry Potter. His relatives pretty much left him alone, except for giving him food and chores; obviously Uncle Vernon knew better than to push his boundaries or knock him around now that he thought that the "freaks" were watching. So the rest of the time, Harry stayed in his room, keeping very quiet and spending most of his time reading and talking to Jewel, who had a wicked sense of humor and and an interesting worldview.

At last, September first arrived, and Harry managed to get Uncle Vernon to drive him to King's Cross ("Only because we need to take Dudders to the Clinic") and he wandered about the station, looking for Platform 9 3/4.

It was only once he had been dropped off that he realized that Hagrid had not told him where to board the the train. He was afraid to ask any of the muggle security guards where said platform 9 3/4 was, and none of them knew of a train that departed at eleven O'clock. At last, when he was starting to wonder whether he had been given the wrong date, or the wrong place, or _something_ , when he felt Jewel readjust herself on his arm.

 _~Thossse no-ssscaless ssmell like magic,~_ she commented. _~Isss that what you're looking for?~_

Harry started, looking up to see a group of red-heads by the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. It was obvious from their mismatched muggle clothes and the owl that one of them was carrying that they were Wizarding, and Harry smiled. ~ _Yess,~_ he said, slowly approaching them. ~ _T_ _hanksss, Jewel~_

Jewel's sensitive tongue flickered out to caress his hand as he carefully adjusted his cuff to conceal her- after the letter he had read and the reaction of the shopkeeper when he'd asked Jewel what kind of carrier she wanted, he sensed that it would probably not be a good thing for others to know he had her...even more so because she was a magical karait and her bite was highly toxic.

Harry hesitated.

 _~Well, go on,~_ Jewel told him. ~ _They do not look venomousss.~_

Harry snickered and then approached. "Excuse me?"

One of the wizards, a motherly-looking witch with frizzy red hair and a kindly expression turned around, allowing one of her children to wiggle away before her hankerchief could expunge the smudge on his nose. "Hello, dear. Hogwarts, then?"

"Yes," Harry responded politely. "Um...how do you get to the platform?"

"Oh, the wall between nine and ten is an illusion; all you have to do is walk through- best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem, dear- Fred! get back here!"

"It's George, mum!" the boy addressed protested, coming back nevertheless, accompanied by what looked to be his twin."I- who's this?"

"I'm Harry," Harry told him politely, already liking them.

"Harry, as in Harry Potter?" they both chorused.

Harry blushed and then face-palmed. "Um. Yes. Don't get all weird, will you?"

"But we are weird, my dear Potter!"

"Weirdness is our business, my dear Potter!"

Even their mother laughed.

Then one of the boys called "Scabbers!" evidently looking around for a pet, and Harry took the opportunity to slip through the barrier, a little overwhelmed. Jewel gave a series of giggly little hisses at his discomfort. Behind him, he could still hear the Wizarding mother talking to her children- "Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet or –"

And said children's responses: "Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

Harry laughed as he lugged his trunk on board.

In no time at all, he had found an empty compartment, where he put his trunk under the seat and sat back with his potions book, relaxing and making the occasional comment to Jewel, figuring that he'd rather see if anyone would like to join him than try to find a compartment of people who would let him join them. Not that he really expected anyone to come; after all, he had seen plenty of compartments on his way, and most of them were empty or nearly so.

It was not long, however, before he was proven wrong, as the door creaked open and a round-faced, rather shy-looking boy already in Hogwarts uniform stepped in the compartment. He looked as though he was about to put his bag down when he saw Harry.

"S-sorry, I didn't see you," he said, looking mortified. "I- can I sit here?"

Harry smiled disarmingly. "Sure, if you want to. I was looking forward to having some company."

The relief on the boy's face was palpable. He stood there another moment then heaved his trunk into the compartment, and Harry helped him stow it under another seat. After that, the two of them sat down again and Harry pulled his potions book out again, although he was more interested at looking at the other boy than at the book. Harry spoke first.

"So, what's your name?"

The boy glanced up at him, as if in surprise that he was being addressed. "Neville," he said finally. "My name's Neville Longbottom."

Harry blinked- where had he heard that name before? He might have spent more time thinking about it, but he knew this wasn't the time, so he shoved it to the back of his mind to ponder later. "Mine's Harry," he replied at last.

The other boy's eyes flicked to his scar- then he blushed and lowered his gaze. A silence fell; Harry was tempted to go back to his book, but he forced himself not to. He could read a book anytime, after all. "So what house are you hoping to get into?" he asked finally, genuinely wondering what the reply would be. He sort of wanted to be in Slytherin, himself, considering he could talk to snakes, but he knew that was considered 'the bad house' so he had resolved to try to get into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff so he could be under the radar for as long as possible. That is if he had a choice.

"Gryffindor," Neville said immediately. "My parents were in Gryffindor." A pause. "I'll probably be in Hufflepuff though."

Harry wondered how much to say. Would Nevile judge him for wanting to be in Slytherin? "There's nothing wrong with being in Hufflepuff," Harry found himself saying. "I mean, I would rather be in Hufflepuff than Gryffindor- I'd probably make more friends. But if you want to be in Gryffindor you probably will be; I think you can at least have a say."

"I hope so."

They lapsed into silence again.

"So which class are you looking forward to the most?" Harry asked, when the silence was threatening to become awkward.

"Herbology," Neville said without missing a beat. "I love plants. Astronomy sounds good, too, but I have a horrible memory. What about you?"

"Potions," Harry responded. "Potions sounds amazing. I mean, I'm looking forward to everything, though."

"P-Potions?" Neville sounded almost alarmed.

"Yeah, why?"

"I...you've heard about the Potions teacher?"

"What about the Potions teacher?"

"He's...really strict. I mean really. I've heard that he hates everyone who isn't a Slytherin." Neville shivered involuntarily. "I don't know if it's true, though..."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. He _couldn't_ be a Slytherin, not unless he wanted to have more trouble than just Voldemort. But how could he learn potions if the teacher hated anyone who wasn't Slytherin? A shiver he couldn't quite understand ran down his spine as he fumbled in his bag for a bookmark, (as it was likely that he wasn't going to go on reading). Harry didn't know what to say, but luckily he was saved from having to respond by the trolley witch, who took that moment to knock on the compartment door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry glanced at Neville. "What do you think is good?"

Nevile blushed. "Uh, chocolate frogs are good. So are licorice wands. Uh, don't get Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, though; when they say every flavor, they mean it."

Harry grinned at him and bought a few of everything- except Every-Flavor Beans. "You want some?"

Neville shyly took a frog and tore it open. Harry did too, and was promptly surprised by the card that the package contained, especially since it moved. Neville wasn't quite so excited when he asked him about them. "They're collectible cards; Gran never liked me collecting them; said they were a waste of time. I did for a while though..."

Harry, who had been inspecting a picture of the enchanteress Morgana LeFay, looked up. It _was_ a fascinating card, but he had to agree with Neville's Gran...although it would be nice to have nothing more important to worry about than which chocolate frog cards were missing from his collection.

They ate sweets and talked about ordinary things for some time; Harry discovered that Neville was very clumsy, had a pet frog which he called Trevor around his gran and Augustus in private, and really hated Pepper Imps. Neville discovered that Harry had been raised muggle and that he was really looking forward to flying.

And that was when the door flew open. It was the boy he had met at Madame Malkins, accompanied by two other boys who reminded him of the pictures of trolls in storybooks. Harry had a brief, painful flashback of "Harry Hunting".

"They've been saying Harry Potter's on the train," he said without preamble. "Are you him?"

Harry didn't like the way he said that, nor did he like the look of his thugs. "And what if I am?"

"Why are you over here sitting with a squib when you have an in with the right sort?"

Harry didn't know what a squib was, but he could guess it was not complementary, given the look on Neville's crimson face. And he was angry.

"I Think I can tell the right sort for myself, thank you." Harry told him angrily. "And please go back to your compartment."

The blond boy paled until his already admittedly pale face was as white as his hair. "And what if we don't? We ran out of candy in our compartment, and you seem to have some..."He nodded at his thugs, who each took a handful of the remaining confections.

Harry's eyes narrowed and Neville spluttered angrily, drawing his wand, which emitted a crimson spark. The boy smirked. "Ooo, the little squib is angry," he said, sounding (if he'd only known it) very much like his aunt Bellatrix.

It was at that moment that Jewel poked her tongue out of Harry's sleeve, smelling. ~ _Harry, whatsss going on?~_ she asked. ~ _Who are these no-sscalesss?~_

 _~I don't know, but they sstole my and Neville'sss prey.~_ Harry told her quietly, masking the parseltongue with a sneeze and making sure Jewel was concealed.

Jewel hissed furiously. _~They dare to sssteal your prey?~_ she spat, venom dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. _~Tell them to get out or I will bite them! Miserable no-sscalesss trying to take what they haven't hunted!~_

 _~I have to keep you sssecret, you know,~_ Harry told her under his breath. Then to the boy and his thugs: "Get out. Now. Just because I can't use magic on the train doesn't mean I can't call a prefect or punch you in the nose."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If you would just let us alone I wouldn't have to," Harry said practically. "Seriously, guys, what is your problem?"

The boy didn't seem to know how to respond to that. After a minute, he beckoned to his thugs. "C'mon, they're not worth our time." And then they were gone.

As soon as they were gone, Jewel poked her head all the way out of his sleeve. ~ _Oh, good, Chunky, Ugly, and Ssslippery are gone! Did they take any more prey?~_

Harry burst out laughing. ~ _No. Nicess namess, by the way.~_

 _~It sssuitss them,~_ was Jewel's response. And it was only then that Harry realized that Neville was staring at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Harry didn't know what to do. Neville had seen him talking to Jewel, and now it was out. Maybe it wasn't! Maybe Neville didn't know it was supposed to be evil and he was just surprised! But somehow, Harry doubted that. This was stupid. There was no way he could keep his ability quiet any longer, and now everyone would probably think he had gone evil. And Dumbledore would probably take Jewel away.

"Y-you're a parselmouth?" asked Neville, looking terrified at the very thought.

Harry didn't know what to say- that seemed to happen frequently to him. "Um...yeah."

Neville continued staring at him.

"Please don't tell anyone," Harry continued when Neville still said nothing. "I mean, Jewel's really nice- she won't hurt anyone unless they hurt her..."

"Jewel?" said Neville cautiously.

Harry was encouraged. "Yeah, her name is Jewel."

Jewel waved her tail. ~ _Hi no-sscale,~_ she said ~ _Pleasssed to meet you.~_

Harry grinned. "She says pleased to meet you," he translated, choosing to leave out the no-scale part. Neville might not think it was nice, even if it was just the parseltongue for "human", or more broadly, "anything that wasn't a bird or reptile".

"Uh, pleased to meet you too," Neville said, watching Jewel as she crawled out of Harry's sleeve and into his lap, hissing contentedly. Harry translated, although it was probably not necessary, as he had been attempting to teach the snake to understand English all summer.

"So, uh, why do you have a snake?" Neville asked, after his shock seemed to have worn off.

"I went to the pet store in Diagon Alley, and she begged me to 'get me out of this miserable enclosed space' so I did. Uh, please tell me you don't think being a parselmouth means I'm gonna go dark?"

"I- it's just...odd, you know, you just hiss and it's a little creepy. But I don't think you're evil- I really don't."

Harry absentmindedly began to stroke Jewel's head. "Sorry, it sounds like English to me."

"Actual English? As in, it sounds like they're really talking?"

 _~Of course we really talk, no-ssscale; what did you think we did- babble?~_ Jewel said scathingly. Harry covered his laugh with a cough.

"I wish more people were parselmouths," Harry said contemplatively, not really looking for an answer. "I mean, it's not like I'm evil or even that I'm headed for Slytherin- I'm just bilingual. But the Wizarding world doesn't see it that way." He paused. He'd managed to owl-order a book on the history of parselmouths earlier that summer, and what he'd learned had been frankly astonishing. "You know that it's only Voldie and a few other British parselmouths are bad, right?"

"W-what?"

"Yeah, in Ancient Egypt and India and Sumeria they were honored because there are whole branches of Healing and Curse-breaking that are only available if you're a parselmouth- same with Alchemy."

Neville looked a little impressed, and Harry was confident that he hadn't lost him. It would be nice to have a friend.

The train rattled on for another few hours, and Harry and Neville truly got to know each other over Wizarding candies, trading knowledge of their separate worlds, while Jewel made the occational comment when she felt there was something she needed to say, and Harry translated. It was during the final hour before the train would pull up (and after they had changed into his school uniforms) when Harry finally decided to ask Neville something that had really been bothering him.

"I...will you...do you want to be friends?"

For a painful moment, Neville said nothing, and Harry nearly panicked. Then he grinned. "Y-yes," he said, smiling shyly. "If you want."

Harry had never grinned wider.

But now the train was slowing down, and Harry and Neville were pulling on their student robes and adjusting each others' ties, while Jewel sat on the seat and looked on with black eyes like onyx beads and hissed. At last, after they had dressed in their uniforms and stuffed the last few Wizarding candies into their pockets, the train ground to a halt in Hogsmeade, and the wizards and witches clambered out, and were led by Hagrid to the shore of the Black Lake, where they piled into the little boats, three and four to a boat. Harry was with Neville, the red-haired boy from the King's Cross, and a pretty Indian girl with a shy smile; Harry learned that the other boy was Ron, and the girl was Parvati.

Then they were approaching Hogwarts, and Harry got his first glimpse of the school.

It was beautiful. With illuminated windows, soaring towers, and flapping pennants, it seemed like a castle out of a fairy tale, and Harry dared to dream that there would be a happy ever after. That Dumbledore would not interfere. That Voldemort would die. That Severus Snape was still alive out there somewhere, and that the man would want his son. That he could have seven long years at Hogwarts, playing Quiddich, doing homework, and having fun. Then the boat he was in passed through the veil of ivy that hid the boathouse, and Jewel squeezed his arm almost painfully under his robes.

And they were clambering up the slippery, narrow pathway, and from thence to the great doors of Hogwarts. Hagrid banged on the heavy oak until the great portals swung open, revealing the figure of a tall, stern older woman, with black hair tucked into a tight bun and a constraining green silk dress.

"I'll take it from here, Hagrid," she said, conducting the children inside, where she led them through the halls to an anti-chamber just outside what a frizzy haired, talkative girl was saying was the Great Hall. Then she left them, and the children stood in a hushed and tense silence, broken at intervals with quiet chattering, waiting for her to return.

Then the ghosts appeared. Harry was actually rather fascinated by the shimmering entities, although some of the girls seemed scared. But then they were sliding through the wall again, and the Professor, who now introduced herself as Mcgonagall, had returned, so Harry turned his attention quickly to her, as she explained what Harry had already learned from _Hogwarts, a History_ , just a little bit about the houses of Hogwarts.

Then she led the chattering group into the Great Hall, and they fell silent again as they were faced with all the other years, who had evidently already been there for some time. (Well, mostly silent; several of the first-year students were speculating intensely about what the sorting might include).

Everyone stared at them, and Harry shrunk within himself, tense with all the eyes fixed on them, and specifically him. Professor Mcgonagall then brought out a battered, dirty olive green hat, and laid it on a stool. Harry frowned, studying it intently, as everyone else seemed to be doing. What was that?

Then the hat twitched, a rip in its brim opened, it seemed to clear its throat, and it began to sing.

**"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,**   
**But don't judge on what you see,**   
**I'll eat myself if you can find**   
**A smarter hat than me.**

**You can keep your bowlers black,**   
**Your top hats sleek and tall,**   
**For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat**   
**And I can cap them all.**

**There's nothing hidden in your head**   
**The Sorting Hat can't see,**   
**So try me on and I will tell you**   
**Where you ought to be.**

**You might belong in Gryffindor,**   
**Where dwell the brave at heart,**   
**Their daring, nerve, and chivalry**   
**Set Gryffindors apart;**

**You might belong in Hufflepuff,**   
**Where they are just and loyal,**   
**Those patient Hufflepuffs are true**   
**And unafraid of toil;**

**Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,**   
**if you've a ready mind,**   
**Where those of wit and learning,**   
**Will always find their kind;**

**Or perhaps in Slytherin**   
**You'll make your real friends,**   
**Those cunning folks use any means**   
**To achieve their ends.**

**So put me on! Don't be afraid!**   
**And don't get in a flap!**   
**You're in safe hands (though I have none)**   
**For I'm a Thinking Cap!"***

Everyone started clapping, and Harry blinked a few times before rolling his eyes, looking, had anyone been watching him at the moment, nearly exactly like his father. Of course. It was a magical school- it _would_ have an eccentric talking hat to sort the students into houses. Quickly, however, he schooled his face back to awe, like most of the rest of the first years, and he listened politely, if a little absently, as Mcgonagall told the herd of firsties that they would all put on the hat to be sorted. (As if Harry had not figured that one out by that time.) Then all the first years were going up, one by one, to try on the hat and see which house fit them. Harry hoped that the hat, if, as it seemed, it was somehow sentient, would listen to entreaties. He slowly watched as each student walked up to the stool and put on the hat, trying to distract himself from his nervousness by looking at each student as they walked up and trying to figure out which house they were going to be in.

"Goyle, Gregory...Granger, Hermione...Greengrass, Daphne...Hopkins, Wayne..."

Harry was beginning to grow nervous. What if he _was_ put in Slytherin? Not that he didn't want to, but he didn't want to deal with more backlash when he'd only discovered he was a wizard this year. But if his father was alive...would he be proud of him if he got into any house besides Slytherin? Or was it already settled; was he going to have to be in Slytherin because he was a parselmouth?

"Li, Su...Longbottom, Neville...MacDougal, Morag...MacMillen, Ernie...Malfoy, Draco...Moon, Lilian...Nott, Theodore...Parkinson, Pansy,"

He knew he would not want to go to Ravenclaw...should he try for Hufflepuff, or just suck it up and go to Gryffindor? The Gryffindors looked far to rowdy, on the whole...

"Padma, Patil...Parvati Patil..."

It would not be long.

"...Perkins, Sally Anne..."

And then, at long last, "Harry Potter!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I do not, of course, own the Sorting Hat's song.


	3. The Sorting

Harry hesitantly approached the stool, heart thumping so loud that he thought that the entire hall must be able to hear it. At last he reached it and sat on it, hastily pulling the Sorting Hat over his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see all the other students staring at him, glaring at him, appraising him, trying to memorize his features. All of a sudden, he felt an odd...pressure, for lack of a better word, bearing down on his brain.

 _"Oh, my, well this is interesting,"_ a little voice commented. Harry blinked rapidly a few times. A _hat_ was reading his mind. And commenting. Surely this counted as some kind of breach of privacy?

 _"Well hello to you too, I guess,"_ he responded mentally. _"So how does this work? Do you just rummage around in my brain, or..."_

The hat seemed to chuckle, if such a thing were possible. _"Yes, although that is a rather crude way of putting it. You know, you sound very much like your father was when he was your age."_

Harry gasped, letting out a quiet but unmistakable huff of air. _"You knew my father? My real one?"_

 _"Child,"_ was the hat's response, _"I know every student whom I ever sorted."_

 _"What was he like?"_ Harry asked, forgetting the other students, and the staff, and everyone else in the hall. He could distinctly feel the hat's amusement.

_"I expect that you'll find out for yourself; he's the head of Slytherin house here at Hogwarts."_

_'What?!"_

_"Yes, now let me sort you, you don't want everyone thinking you're a hatstall..."_

_"A hatstall?_

_"Hmm,"_ the hat said without replying. _"You're brave enough to be in Gryffindor, but I don't think you'd be the best fit. **Not a bad mind, either**_ _\- you'd make a good Ravenclaw, but I don't think that's where you want to go. Loyal enough for Hufflepuff- now_ that's _an idea...and Slytherin...you'd fit perfectly into Slytherin...you're a parselmouth, and you have the ambition needed...you would do very well in Slytherin."_

 _"Please not Slytherin,"_ Harry responded, eyes wide. _"I want to be in Slytherin really bad, but I'm new to the Wizarding world, and I'm worried about everyone's reactions."_

_"Child, you shouldn't have to worry about people's reactions to your sorting. Do you truly want to be in Slytherin? You'd do well there..."_

_"Yes, but-"_

_"No buts. If you truly want to be in Slytherin, I can put you there."_

_"I..."_

_"Or I can do something I haven't done since Halcyon Gryffindor came to Hogwarts."_

_"What's that?"_

The hat raised his? voice, speaking out loud now. "Better be Slytherpuff!"

Complete and total silence fell over the whispering hall. One of the teachers, a tall man with a large nose and long black hair, turned very pale, black eyes widening. A wizard with long white hair and garishly bright robes choked, looking momentarily horrified before a twinkling-eyed and grandfatherly facade dropped over his face again. A short little wizard slid three galleons down to table to a cheerful-looking witch, and the students stared at each other down the long tables, evidently shocked speechless. Finally the witch who had introduced herself as Professor Mcgonagall walked over and took the hat off his head.

"Mr Potter, you may sit at either the Hufflepuff or the Slytherin table- you will meet your heads of house after the feast and they can explain more about your dorm arrangements."

Harry blinked at the her and then at the two tables mentioned, still reeling from the shock of his sorting; whatever had happened was obviously unusual- yet another thing that they would stare at him for. Then he looked back at the tables. Hufflepuff table looked much more cheerful- it was draped with black and butter yellow pennants, and the students looked more welcoming. But the hat had said that his father was the head of Slytherin house, and Harry longed to make the illusive man proud, to prove to him that he was good enough, to make him come back. And so, in the whispering silence, he cautiously walked over to the Slytherin table and sat next to a pretty, if a little aloof, Slytherin girl, making sure that he was as far from the boy from the train (Malfoy, Draco) and his two bodyguards.

Everyone seemed very shocked by his decision, but the sneering Slytherins were starting to smile, as if they had just realized the political advantage of having the Boy-Who-Lived in their house (well, partially in their house). The rest of the hall was just staring and whispering as Harry tried to ignore them- he felt so much like an animal at the British menangeries.

Just then Professor Mcgonagall cleared her throat. "We will now be moving on normally," she said in what was obviously a magically amplified voice, and then called out the next name as if nothing had happened.

Harry simply sat stiffly at the Slytherin table in silence, while the rest of the names were called. After Blaise, Zabini, went into Slytherin, the grandfatherly man at the head table- Harry assumed he was Professer Dumbledore- got up, tapping his glass with a fork to make a chime that rang through the hall.

"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" he said, before sitting down again. The girl sitting next to him (Greengrass, Daphne) gave a little snort.

"Definitely mad," she muttered, glancing at the head table. "Father was right."

"Who is?" Harry asked, digging for more information.

"Dumbledore, of course," was her answer, she said after a moment, nodding at the eccentric man. Harry might have asked something else, but at that moment the food popped up on the tables, and Harry cast a critical eye over it before carefully collecting some, trying to remember what Aunt Petunia had always told Dudley about manners and watching the other Slytherins to pick up the rest, very self-conscious.

The food was very good, however. Harry spent most of the time watching the other Slytherins and making simple replies to the questions leveled at him- yes, he was looking forward to flying class, no he had not flown before, yes, he had been raised under a rock (that last answer garnered giggles from a few of the others). All and all, it was one of the best days Harry had ever had, even though he had to endure the constant whispers about his sorting, and his looks, and everything about him, and though he had a very nasty headache by the end of the night.

At last, however, the feast ended, and Harry was left staring at the backs of the other Slytherins as they left to their common room. And then two of the teachers- a plump, motherly woman in warm brown robes and the rather sinister-looking teacher he had noted at his sorting. "Mr. Potter," the witch said, when the other looked as though he wasn't going to say anything, "We will be your house heads from now on. I am Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff, and this is Severus Snape, head of Slytherin. We will be your..."

But Harry didn't hear any more. Severus Snape, head of Slytherin. His new head of house. His father. His father was Severus Snape. The man who was currently sneering at him as if he would rather be anywhere but there. He was never, ever going to tell him, Harry resolved grimly, making an effort to refocus.

"Because you have been sorted into two houses," Professor Sprout went on, "you may sleep in either the Hufflepuff or the Slytherin dormitories, and sit at either table. You may also go back and forth between tables, if you wish, although I suggest sticking with one or the other. You will only be permitted to switch dormitories between semesters, or if you feel threatened. Any points taken from you will be divided between the two houses, and any points you win will likewise be divided. You may come to either me or Professor Snape if you need help or advice or anything..."

Professor Snape sneered coldly at this, as if he hoped that he would never be the one approached. Harry felt this heart clench just a little more.

"For now, you will have to choose a dormitory to begin with."

Harry blinked a few times. Choose a dormitory. He knew which one he _wanted_ to choose, but he also knew that he'd never get a chance to even be near Professor Snape if he did not sleep with the Slytherins. And yet he also knew that the headmaster would probably keep more of an eye on him if he slept with the Slythers, and he also didn't like the way some of them were looking at him. And Professor Sprout looked so much more welcoming...but what would his father- no, Professor Snape, he reminded himself- think of him moving in with the Hufflepuffs?

"Well, get on with it," Snape said in a harsh voice. Harry couldn't help but flinch at this.

"Slytherin," he whispered finally. "I want to sleep in Slytherin."

Both of the teachers stared at him, Sprout looking more worried and Snape more calculating.

"Are you sure?" Sprout asked. "You can't just change dorms when you want."

"I'm sure," was Harry's quiet reply. He did not look at Snape.

Harry was soon situated in the Slytherins boys' dorms, with Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini. He had to admit that he was scared. He had known the habits of bullies long enough to know sleep was a very vulnerable time...and he quite regretted the choice he had made. Still, there was no going back, and, if it came to it, he knew that he was experienced enough to avoid being bullied, at least somewhat. And it wouldn't be long, anyway- he just had to hold out until the holidays. And...would Professor Snape notice him, now that he was rooming with the Slytherins?

All too well, as it turned out. He entered and left the Great Hall for each meal feeling uncomfortable black eyes scrutinizing him, and he always seemed to come across the man in the hallways. He usually took points- just enough to show his disapproval (of what, he didn't know)- and not enough to really deplete the Slytherin house point hourglass. Which was a good thing, because only Blaise Zabini of all his dorm mates seemed to want to talk to him. Nott asked the occasional question until he finally seemed to decide that Harry was too boring to talk to, and Malfoy was following the lead of Snape, like most of the rest of the house, and giving him the silent treatment. And Harry doubted Crabbe and Goyle were capable of intelligent expression...

His only other friends so far were Neville Longbottom and the two Slytherin girls in his year, Daphne and Tracy, and he could only talk to Neville in the library or in the halls, except when they partnered in Herbology, because the other Slytherins did not tolerate inter-house communication with Gryffindor house.

His classes, though, seemed to go well, even if he had to borrow some muggleborn orientation pamphlets from Deborah McKay, one of the Hufflepuff prefects- he especially like Charms. He thought he would like DADA too, but the professor, professor Quirrell, was a shy-looking man who stuttered excessively and seemed afraid of his own shadow. Harry didn't like the way he looked at him. Not at all. That man gave him the creeps...and not only because by the third week he was already talking about entrail-expelling curses.

And then it was Friday, and his first Potions class. Even with how cold Snape had been to him so far, Harry was almost bouncing in anticipation. He would be in his father's class!

The enthusiasm lasted only a few moments after Professor Snape entered the classroom, as the man started laying into him because of his supposed "celebrity". Harry sat in silence, head bowed, forcibly calming himself. He would not cry, at least in front of his teacher and housemates. There would be time enough for that later.

But it was so hard. Especially when Snape concluded his absolutely breathtaking introduction by pummeling him with questions that he had no possible way of knowing, using the excuse that Harry hadn't been taking notes, which he certainly had been, as he wanted to do well in Potions.

**"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to and infusion of wormwood?"**

"Um, I don't know sir."

"Hmm, **apparently fame isn't everything. Let's try again: where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"**

Jewel, on his wrist, muttered: _~_ _Probably in hisss ingredientsss cupboard~_ and Harry, who had been flushed with rage, eyes stinging, stifled a giggle. He knew better than to say that, though.

"I don't know sir."

"What might be **the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"**

Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He shouldn't have expected Snape to be anything but cruel, the Dursleys certainly were and they _knew_ they were related to him. "I- I don't know, sir."

Snape looked displeased. **"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"**

Everyone hurriedly began writing. After they had finished, Snape put a recipe for a simple burn salve on the board and told everyone to do it.

They began. Everything went fine until Neville's cauldron blew up, injuring him, and Harry offered to take him to the hospital wing. Snape told Seamus Finnegan, a Gryffindor first-year, to do it instead, and then proceeded to blame Harry for somehow being too arrogant to tell Neville he was adding the porcupine quills before the heat had been turned down, as if he could have even noticed at all, much less in time. Not only that, but the distraction afforded by the accident gave Malfoy (at least, Harry assumed it was Malfoy) a chance to throw something in Harry's partially completed burn salve, which was already creeping up the sides of its container, resulting in the entire thing cracking and leaking smoking grey slime. Snape banished it peremptorily, looking furious.

"Ten points from Slytherpuff, for being lazy and incompetent. Just like your father!"

"Unfortunately," Harry hissed between gritted teeth, shoving his books in his bag rather too fast and bolting for the door.

"Potter! Where are you going?"

"It's evident that I will never learn anything, so why stay to be verbally attacked for no reason?" Harry responded, flinging said bag over his shoulder and resuming his flight.

Snape stared after him. He had sounded, if he could have only known it, like an eleven-year old Severus in Slughorn's biased class.

Harry, however, continued running until he had reached the owlery, where he leaned on the wall and then slid down it, tears overcoming him. It was clear that his father would prefer that he not exist. At this point, Harry was so upset he was considering indulging him.

 _~He'ssss just being a carrion-eater,~_ Jewel told him, coiling comfortingly around as much of his body as her little frame could manage. ~ _He doessn't dessserve to be your ssseed-giver.~_ (There was no word in parseltongue for "father".)

_~But he isss, and I can't change that. I jusssst want ssomeone to care about me asss a blood-mate.~_

_~Make him,~_ she suggested. _~_ _He needs a good bite in the tail.~_

Harry gave a watery giggle, running one finger along her scaly back. _~_ _You are a great sssun-ssissster,~_ he told her, using the word for close friend. ~ _I don't know what I would do without you.~_

 _~Have more ratsss to yoursself,~_ she told him, giving a serpentine impression of a laugh. ~ _Just finisshh your sssalt-rain, you'll feel better. He doessn't know what he isss missssing.~_

Harry cried for a long time, intermittently stroking Jewel, before at last the tears died to hiccups, and Harry simply leaned back against the cold, slightly dropping-spattered wall of the owlery and closed his eyes. And that's when a voice startled him into wakefulness. "Mr. Potter?"


	4. Severus Snape

Severus was actually feeling rather ashamed of himself. To be sure, he'd made more than one first year cry before, but there was just something about those green eyes in a face so like his enemy's, and perhaps the fact that _he_ should have been the boy's father, that made him lose his head. But that didn't excuse the way he had been treating him. The boy, a Potter or not, was still one of his students, and in his house, and he had no right to treat him like that. He tried to forget the pain in that emerald gaze, the curl in pale lips as he spoke achingly familiar words, but somehow he couldn't, and after a few minutes of trying desperately to get back on track, he dismissed class ten minutes early- something he'd never done in his life- and began to pack up in a rare temper, shooing the little menaces out as he did so.

And then he grudgingly went to look for the boy- not to apologise, just to- to what? Why did he care? Potter probably just went crying to Professor Sprout, who would give him sweeties and sympathize with him and other such nonsense, and then Dumbledore would call him into his office and give him a lecture, and then he would endeavour not to torment the arrogant brat until he graduated, or until the unlikely but welcome occurrence of him being expelled or Dumbledore allowing Severus to quit his teaching duties, and that would be it.

So why did he feel so bad about himself? Perhaps it was because Potter was one of his little snakes.

He only began to worry when Professor Sprout told him that she had not seen the poor boy at all that day, much less in her office. Severus then went to Hagrid's hut, but the half-giant had not seen Potter either, nor was he in the library...or the kitchens...or the Great Hall...or the common room. And then, at last, he found him.

Potter was huddled into a small ball, back against the cold and dropping-splattered wall of the owlry, and what Severus could see of his face was red and puffy with tears. He was evidently asleep. Severus watched him breathe for as long as he dared, strange emotions that he could not understand sweeping over him. At last, he seemed to snap out of it. "Mr. Potter?"

The boy's head jerked up, cracking painfully against the owlry wall, green eyes flying open. "P-professor Snape?" he asked, unusually hesitant.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said again, unable to think of anything to say. "I- I apologize for being so harsh with you."

Those eyes, so like the boy's mother, widened, staring up at him with an almost hopeful expression, as though he had just offered him sweets instead of apologizing. Somehow it made him feel worse. "It's...it's okay, sir, really," the boy replied in a tone that made it clear that it was anything but. "But thank you so much."

Were those words calculated to make the guilt rise in him? Severus scowled and regretted it as he saw the boy flinch. "Still...it was...unprofessional of me. Especially as I am supposed to be your head of house."

"Apology accepted," was the soft reply. "And- oh! I'm going to be late for Charms!"

"I will write you a permission slip," Severus told him, conjuring a quill and transfiguring a bit of floating owl fluff into a perfect permission slip.

Potter stared at him, a sort of...longing in his face that Severus couldn't understand. "Thank you sir," he replied, reaching out to take the slip once Severus had written it. And that was when a black and grey snake popped out of his collar.

Severus froze. "Potter," he began in a low voice.

Potter blinked at him, and then went cross-eyed looking at the snake, which Severus had by now identified as a highly venomous exotic karait. And then he hissed. Severus had only ever heard that noise once before, and that was when he was with the Dark Lord. Potter was a _parselmouth_? By the way the boy was hissing away, Severus certainly thought so.

And that was when the boy realized that he was still there. "Oh, Merlin, am I in trouble?" he asked.

Severus could barely pull himself together enough to reply. "No, except perhaps for having a pet that is not regulation, but we will have to go speak to the headmaster."

Potter froze, green eyes glinting with panic. "Please don't- I don't want- Dumbledore _can't_ know!"

The snake hissed, and Potter tensed even more, replying to the snake with a stream of quiet hisses. A last he straightened. "Please sir, don't tell him- if you need to tell anyone, please just tell Professor Sprout. I have to- I don't want-"

The snake gave another hiss; it sounded calming.

"No!" was the boy's agitated reply. "Jewel, ssshssiss ssethss ssh!" he told the snake forcefully. "Ssss shzz ssessis!"

Severus could not easily forget that horrible sound flowing from innocent pink lips, and it was all he could do not to run. The boy seemed to see his fear at that moment though, or perhaps the snake smelled it, because his eyes flew to Severus's face.

"Sorry sir, I forgot that- I- never mind," he said uncertainly. "But please, _please_ don't tell Dumbledore."

Severus blinked. "He will not punish you," he began.

"I wouldn't care if it was just punishment," the boy replied in a tone that really unnerved him. "But he can't know- it's already bad enough that I'm in Slytherin- he'll never trust me- he'll think I'm 'going evil' and try to stop me-"

Severus was startled by these accusations. "The headmaster-"

"Please, just promise me-" the boy gasped out.

Severus thought for a long time. He wasn't sure why Potter was so afraid, and Dumbledore _did_ need to know, but there was no reason that Dumbledore had to know right now. And the boy seemed so desperate! "I...very well. I promise that I will not tell Albus Dumbledore your secret unless it is absolutely necessary."

Potter seemed a little relieved. "Th-thank you, sir."

"Now you'd best get to Charms, or at least to the library, seeing as the class is likely almost over," Severus said, shaking himself out of his stupor. "And twenty points from Slytherin for having an unregulation pet."

The boy nodded and rose shakily, putting one hand out to steady himself and then slowly walking down the spiral steps, descending from the owlry, and hissing to his snake out of the corner of his mouth. Severus stared after him for a long time and left the owlry himself, to go to his next class.

He really needed a calming drought or maybe even something stronger. Potter was a parselmouth. Potter did not at all act like a Potter. Potter had a pet karait which he apparently hid in his shirt. _Potter_ was going to drive him to drink within a month!


	5. Halloween

After that first eventful class, relations with the surly Potions Master eased up a little, and Harry, for the first time, entertained the thought telling him the truth. He didn't, of course, but every time the wizard gave him a few points or paused to correct his potion-making technique, Harry couldn't help feeling warmed. Even if his father might never be a true father to him, the fact that he was at least trying to be fair went a long way towards making Harry's day.

All of that, however, was suddenly called into question by the first Halloween.

Harry had, on that day, been one of the only students to be subdued. Most of the others were excited by the prospect of the sweets which would be available at the Halloween feast that night, but Harry could not stop thinking of what that night had cost him, ten years ago, and he was one of the few who seemed even to remember his parents at all, remember that terrible night, nothing more than a scream and a flash of green light emblazoned on his memory, and a high, cold laugh that made the hairs rise on his neck and arms even now. But aside from a few of the older Slytherins grumbling about "the Dark Lord" being gone and some of the Hufflepuffs lighting candles, it was all about the celebration!

And the classes! After having had to intercept the third note about the feast, Professor Flitwick abandoned the lesson plan he had made and resigned himself to teaching all the first years how to make orange flashing lights on the ends of their wands and how to conjure black paper bats that really flew, and even Binns stopped droning about the goblin rebellions forty minutes in to class and gave an impromptu history lesson on Samhein traditions before going back to his mindless mumbling about Algork the Third and Lothbrok the Unwieldy. Even the Upper Years were talking about the mad Divination Professor, Sybill Trelawney, predicting "Halloween horrors" and the Ancient Runes Professor having her students translate passages from the Hallows Book.

Harry just wanted to sink into the floor. First the total obliviousness of all his classmates, followed by the pitying or apologetic looks of those who belatedly remembered was enough to drive anyone mad- he just wanted everyone to go about life as normal; well, as normal as was possible on this day, recognizing that it was a day of suffering for him but not pitying him, or worse, trying to sympathize. But at last, after an interminable day, it was at last time for the feast, which promised to be equally interminable. He might actually have stayed in the dorm, if that had been allowed, but unfortunately it was not if you were well enough to go, no matter who you were grieving, and Harry didn't want to have to ask for a special exception for himself. He might have claimed illness, though, but he didn't know any illness-causing spells, and the only other options to get himself into the infirmary would be to do something stupid like jump off the moving staircase, let Jewel bite him, or eat something moldy, so he decided just to put up with it and go.

The food _was_ , he decided, almost worth it. They had all sorts of party snacks on levitating trays and far, far too many sweets to eat at one sitting, and someone had released actual, live bats- not the conjured paper ones- to fly around the hall. Pumpkins the size of Cinderella's carriage in the fairy tale had been carved with grinning or snarling faces, and the backs were cut out so that two or three children at a time could climb inside and sit down on the benches which had been affixed- somehow- to the walls of the enormous jack o' lanterns. Harry almost found himself enjoying it, that is, until a callous remark from another student reminded him that his parents had died on this day- well, his mother had. And she had died for him. Harry was just ruminating dismally on this topic, while a disillusioned Jewel, on his shoulder, tried to cheer him up:

 _~Your birthgiver would not want you sssubdued, Harry,~_ she told him _Grieve when you get back; ssssunbathe now~_ when suddenly Professor Quirrel burst into the Great Hall at a run.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" he screamed, and then toppled backwards in a dead faint in front of the head table. Wait, backwards? Harry frowned, even as the other students burst into a pandemonium of motion and screaming, and the teachers leapt to their feet. Why would he be falling backwards if he had been running, unless it was an act? If he had really fainted, the momentum of his running would have made him fall forwards, if anything. And why had Dumbledore just told everyone to go to their common rooms just now, when two of the common rooms were in the dungeons, where the troll was? Shouldn't they be _staying_ in the Great Hall, with the doors bolted? Something was definitely not right.

 _~I sssmell your uneasse,~_ Jewel hissed in his ear, shifting to make herself more comfortable against his bare neck. _~What isss the matter?~_

 _~There isss a troll, a nassty, dangerous animal, and it issss loossse in the casstle,~_ Harry told her out of the corner of his mouth as one of the prefects shouted for him to come along.

 _~Then why are you leaving the sssanctuary?~_ Jewel asked, and Harry had to resist the urge to laugh. Even a snake knew better to leave the Great Hall with a troll loose in the castle. Granted, Jewel was an unusually intelligent snake, but still!

 _~I honessstly have no idea~_ he told her in return as he began to follow the other Slytherins back to the common room. _~Either Dumbledore isss sstupid, or he hassss an alterior motive.~_

 _~The sssecond one; I could ssmell the desssseit on him~_ Jewel hissed, and Harry resisted the urge to repeat something for which Aunt Petunia had washed Dudley's mouth out with soap for. How could Dumbledore do something like that in a school full of children and not get caught? In muggle primary school a _teacher_ who pulled something like that would have been sacked, and Dumbledore was the headmaster.

 _~Leaf-mold covered sson of a impotent ssslug!~_ Harry hissed, unable to stop himself.

Jewel gave him a mild _~Language, Harry~_ and one of the other Slytherins shot Harry an odd look, but the boy didn't care at all, not with how angry he was. At last, when they were almost to the common room, they heard a sudden, irate roar.

 _~Ssso there iss actually a troll!~_ Harry said in shock, not even realizing that he was still speaking parselmouth, and he ran along with the rest of the students. And then, just as Harry was going to enter the common room, one of the older students shoved him aside with such force that his head cracked into the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

When he was able to focus again, the door had already shut behind the rest of the panicked first years. And he could hear the troll lumbering down the corridor behind him, mingled with the clatter of armor that the creature was probably striking on the way. He ran to the stone where the entrance should be.

"Pureblood! Asphodel! Hippogriff! Torjurs pur!" he tried, listing all the passwords he could remember in his panicked state. The door did not open. _~Jewel, do you remember the passssword?~_ Harry asked the snake hurriedly. He could almost feel the creature's fetid breath- and he could certainly smell it.

 _~No,~_ Jewel responded after a moment, and Harry could have cried. Instead, he took off running again, hoping his speed could counterbalance the lesser mountain troll's habit of trying to chase anything that moved. Damn it, why couldn't his imbecilic housemates so much as bothered to tell him the password?!

* * *

Severus Snape was not in the best of moods. It seemed as if he was the only one who remembered what had happened on this night, the only one who remembered that their peace had come at the cost of so many lives, his Lily among them. His Lily. Merlin, he missed her. He always missed her, with every beat of his pulse. Some days, like now, every breath he drew did nothing but remind him that _she_ was no longer breathing. It was not as if that mattered, though. He didn't not have the luxury of maudlin sentiment, and should he show the slightest grief, the slightest hint of something other than gladness or possibly anger (as a "loyal" Death Eater, it would not do to pretend too much joy on the day on which the Dark Lord, however temporarily, vanished off the face of the earth) he knew that it could- and would- be reported.

It was so hard, though, to have to pretend that it was just another day. Not even Albus knew what Halloween truly meant to him, and Severus would never tell him, either; better to let the meddling old man assume some story of tragic and unrequited love than to know the truth, that she had come to him for comfort from her abuser and that he had taken advantage of that. Besides, those memories were too private, too personal. He had never quite trusted Albus in general, but the one time he had let himself slip, the old man had crushed him. Severus never made that mistake again. He was no saint and certainly never had been, but he knew he would not be able to stand the grim disapproval in the old man's eyes. He was already remorseful enough, himself.

His classes were, as always on this day, much more unmanageable than usual, and Severus was nearly ready to throw a jar of pickled fire salamanders at the next student who thought it would be amusing to pass notes. Instead, since he _did_ still have a bit of self-control, he made said student (a very terrified Hufflepuff) read it out loud to the class. It was about the feast, of course; they were always about the feast: "Are you looking forward to it?" "Do you think they will serve fuarag?" "What are you going to dress up as?" All they cared about was the feast! Not that this day marked the day of the elder Potters' deaths, not even that this day was the day that the war ended. Not even that today was Samhain, the night upon which the veil was thinnest, a night known to be associated with spirits walking the earth, necromantic and animantic rituals, and the summoning of demons and sprites; a night where ancient magic, blood magic, and death magic was strongest. A night where, if you were not careful, the darkness would sweep you away.

Severus was so tired, the exhaustion bone-deep within him. He finished his classes, retreating into his chambers with a pile of quizzes and papers to grade, thinking that even if he was miserable, he might as well get something done and then have an early bedtime. He had just picked up his red pen, in fact, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he snapped, swearing privately to himself that if this was some student only out for extra credit, he would hex him or her. As it turned out, it was Albus.

"My boy, haven't you forgotten the feast?"

 _'Oh, no, here it comes,'_ Severus thought, too dismal even to snap at his employer. Albus always found something for him to do on Halloween, allegedly to keep him busy, to keep him from remembering. Severus personally thought that it was to keep an eye on him, considering that it was never enough to dispel his memories while still managing to make sure he couldn't have a moment to himself. Perhaps Albus thought that he would give in to his alleged addiction to the dark arts and try to contact Lily's soul or bring her back. Or perhaps Albus really was trying to help. Severus personally thought that the latter was unlikely, but then, it would be easier to reach the far-away stars than to predict what passed for thought in the old man's mind. "Of course not, sir," he replied, carefully keeping his tone neutral.

"It is in one hour, you know."

"Yes."

"You're chaperoning, my boy, have you forgotten?"

"I fail to see how I could have forgotten something which was never communicated to me," Severus responded, making a concerted effort not to let his frustration show on his face. Evidently it had worked, because Dumbledore did not bat an eye. Either that, or the old coot just didn't care.

"Well, I suppose you know now," Dumbledore told him, that infernal twinkle kindling in his eyes again. "Am I to assume that you will be ready in time?"

Severus didn't bother with a response, at least until the headmaster raised an inquiring eyebrow. Then he sighed and nodded tersely.

"Excellent! Be at the Great Hall at eight, then."

Severus nodded again and, knowing he would likely not get another chance to work on his grading, picked up his red pen and poised it over the stack of quizzes.

"One more thing."

Severus suppressed the urge to ward the headmaster out of his chambers and instead said in his calmest, most dangerous tone: "Yes sir?"

"Keep an eye on Harry, will you?"

Albus had interrupted him to say that? Why in Merlin's name would he care to keep an eye on Potter? Severus struggled to make an appropriate response. "Yes sir. Now may I please grade my papers? I doubt that I will have any time once I have to transition to baby sitting sugar-hyped students."

Albus had the nerve to laugh as he left Severus's chambers.

Severus did, indeed, keep an eye on Potter, mostly just out of curiosity. The boy was surprisingly subdued, and though he ate and talked with the other students, the usual light in his eyes was quite gone. Severus felt a momentary flicker of sympathy. The boy's parents, after all, had died this day, ten years ago, and it was clear that the other students, like the senseless creatures they were, hadn't even considered that he might be grieving. Then Longbottom said something to Potter, who smiled and picked up a cupcake, replying to whatever he had said with a laugh, and the moment passed. Severus went back to watching his Slytherins to make sure that they weren't up to something and wishing that he was permitted to leave. It would be a long night.

It proved to be quite longer than he'd thought, as, an hour or so in to the feast (it's not like he had had the time or inclination to cast a _tempus_ ) Quirinus Quirrell crashed in through the great double doors and ran up to the staff table, blurted some nonsense about a troll in the castle, and pantomimed a faint, throwing the entire hall into chaos. Severus knew instantly that it was a distraction. First of all, the faint was clearly faked (Severus was a good enough actor himself not to see that) and second of all, even had Quirinus been sincere (which was not something that Severus believed he could do) there was no earthly reason a troll would be let into a castle full of school children unless someone was planning to distract Dumbledore in an attempt on the stone (or if Hagrid was particularly drunk, but he seemed sober enough. Besides, not even Hagrid could appreciate a troll.)

Dumbledore appeared to have taken the bait though, as he immediately ordered all the students back to their common rooms. Severus bristled. His Slytherins slept in the dungeons, allegedly where the troll was! He had been about to go check on the stone, but on hearing this, he hissed to McGonagall to make sure it was safe and slipped out of the hall like a wraith, in search of the supposed troll. It would be easy enough just to bind it or knock it out, right?

Severus swooped through the halls of Hogwarts like the bat that the more impolite of his students always compared him to, wand half out of its holster so that he could draw it within seconds. After far too many minutes of fruitless searching, he drew his wand with a muffled curse and hissed "Point me, troll." The wand spun in his hand immediately, and then pointed in the general direction of the Slytherin common room. And Severus ran, faster than he ever had in his life.

It was then, at last, that he saw the troll. It was trying with all the force and ingenuity it could muster (the former considerable and the latter quite negligible) to ram its way through the barred door of an empty classroom. Severus came at it from behind, casting a binding spell (the troll was too stupid for a stunner to have much effect) and repeating said binding spell until it toppled over, bound. Then he cast alohomora on the door and through it open, in an effort to discover why the troll had been attacking him. What he found was certainly not what he had expected, considering that the moment he opened the door, a bottle full of moldy potion (he wasn't even sure what kind it had been, though it was probably a cheese potion; they did tend to be the likeliest to mold) flew straight at his head. It was only his considerable combat experience that kept him from being hit.

He entered the classroom, this time with a full-body shield up, to see Potter, with his wand clutched anxiously in his fist, his snake arching defiantly over his head.

"Potter!"

Luminous green eyes caught his, and the tense little body relaxed ever so slightly. "Professor Snape," he replied, lowering his wand. "Thank God!"

That was probably the first time anyone had thanked God for his arrival, but it wasn't as if there was time to dwell on the unique sensation. "For Merlin's sake, why are you out here! You were ordered to your common room!"

Potter ducked his head. "I'm sorry sir. I didn't remember the password."

"You didn't remember the password?! For Merlin's sake, boy!"

He did not understand Potter's flinch, but it made a very odd feeling rise inside him. He was about to mollify his statement slightly when the boy replied: "They don't always tell me, sir, and I didn't get to the door before it had closed." Then he lowered his eyes as though he expected to be struck.

There was something very wrong about all of this. "They don't tell you the password?" Severus asked, incredulous.

Potter mutely shook his head. At Severus's raised eyebrow, however, he elaborated: "I don't get along well with them, you know. At least Blaise talks to me..."

Severus felt an uncomfortable flashback to his own youth, where the only ones in his house who would talk to him were those who would later "convince" him to join the Dark Lord, but shoved it away. "If you can't make any friends, sleep in Hufflepuff. It's not my problem!"

Sea green eyes blazed with rage, and the snake- Jewel, was it?- spat threateningly. Potter tilted his head. "Ssss, shhh, stesssas smass," he said to the snake. He frowned. "Sssss. SppsSsss."

The snake must have made some reply, because Potter seemed to grow angry at its hissing. "Jewel, sssSssssrrs! No, I am _not_ shssshs spsss snisss smssms! He's sssststsss-ssisi!"

"You will not what?"

Potter blanched, then shot "Jewel" a look. "N-nothing sir. Can I go?"

"Evidently it's not nothing. What is the animal trying to tell you?" Severus had to admit that he was curious.

"That, sir," said Potter, beginning to turn his wand over and over in his hands, as though itching to use it, "is private. Can you please just tell me the password and let me go back to the commons?"

Severus had honestly decided to do so; it was nearly after curfew, the feast was over, and he and Potter didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "The password is nepenthe; see that you don't forget it. And five points from Slytherin for not seeking out a teacher."

Potter shot him a poisonous glance at this, as if to say "when would I have done that, in between leaving the Great Hall or almost being clobbered by a troll?" and Severus almost, for the first time in his teaching career, gave back the points. There was just something about those beautiful green eyes that bewitched him, and always had. He might even have done it, too. But at that moment, Peeves crashed through the wall. "Ickle Potty's in a classroom with Sevvie!" he shouted, cackling maniacally. Oh, splendid. He would have spread a completely falsified version of events all over the castle by ten 'O'clock that evening.

Severus huffed and turned back to Potter. "I suppose I should walk you back to the commons. Are you coming?"

Potter paused to have a hissing conference with his pet, and then finally nodded, and Severus walked him back to the Slytherin common room, both of them having to step over the troll on the way, while Peeves pelted them with chalk all the way to the common room entrance. And yet somehow, Severus had the odd feeling that Potter was happy that he was there. Wasn't that an odd thing to contemplate!


	6. The Philosopher's Stone

After the troll episode, Harry's relations with Professor Snape were much more amicable (or, at least, as amicable as Professor Snape could manage; seriously, Harry often wondered if it would take a few overpowered cheering charms to put a smile on the dour man's face). Classes otherwise continued as normal, and soon, the signup sheets for staying for the holidays began to be passed around in the various houses and posted in the various common rooms, and the children began to talk about Yule and gift shopping at Hogsmeade (although it was Harry's personal opinion that it was rather too early to be talking about Yule _already_ ).

Harry, having signed the signup sheets for both of the houses that he was a member of, just to make sure; he didn't really know which one he should do, and it wasn't like he was going to go and ask his current acting head of house even if he was now on more friendly terms with the man. He otherwise went on as normal, once Professors Snape and Sprout had told him that he was staying, and didn't have to go back to the Dursleys for Christmas. _Merlin_ , that would have been horrible.

As the days grew progressively colder and frost patterns began to trace the windows and outline what few leaves that remained on the trees of the Hogwarts grounds with false crystal, the classes grew harder, but as if in consolation, it seemed that most of the Slytherins had at last warmed to having the "Chosen One" in their house, and he had even made a few friends, although Malfoy was still being a prat and Crabbe and Goyle followed his lead. He and Blaise, however, were both study partners and very good friends, almost to the point that Harry wanted to show him Jewel (although he hadn't yet, and wouldn't until he knew that the boy was both not in the Death Eater camp _and_ relatively trustworthy). Susan Bones and her friend Hannah Abbott were the other two friends that he had in his year, although Susan was considerably closer. In the other houses, though, he had a number of acquaintances (good and bad), and two other friends, Padma Patil and, of course, Neville.

It was on one of the days that he had stopped by Hagrid's place (with Blaise and Susan in tow) that he learned of the breakout at Gringotts, and the fact that the thief seemed to have been going after the little paper package that the half-giant had picked up on "'Ogwarts business." He was, naturally, curious (how could he _not_ be) but Hagrid did not seem to be very forthcoming, and Harry stuffed the knowledge in the back of his brain for the moment, wanting to focus on his grades (Merlin, there was so much that the regular introductory books just didn't tell him, especially about Potions). But Hagrid had mentioned _something_ about a Nicholas Flamel. Where had he heard that name before?

 _~When the tall dark boy wass helping you go over your passst-sstudy,~_ Jewel commented unexpectedly in his ear, and he realized with a start that he had spoken aloud. Thankfully at that same moment, a particularly sap-laiden branch which Hagrid had added to the fire had let out a hiss of smoke and a few crackling sparks, and so the hiss was not heard by any of Harry's companions. Jewel _was_ particularly quiet, after all. Hmm. Harry might have to figure out some kind of spell so that her hisses were only audible to him, as well as something that could hide her more easily than his Slytherin scarf. Who could he ask, though? "Excuse me, I need a spell to be able to hide my supremely venomous and technically illicit familiar...but make it so I can hear her so we can chat." That would go down well... Harry sighed and stroked a finger down her smooth back, under the guise of rubbing his neck.

Nicholas Flamel. What had she said? Oh, about his history study period last week with Blaise. They had talked about goblin rebellions (that was all Binns ever put on the tests; not that he could write new ones now... It seemed that he had a hard enough time grading with a quik-quotes pen, as often, even the most sloppy and poorly written of Harry's essays would come back with an "O" scrawled on the top, even if he had gotten literally everything wrong. Not that he did that often, but still!) They had also talked about other, more interesting things though; Harry remembered Blaise complaining that he had actually _liked_ history before Binns, and Harry, having only ever taken European History in primary school, besides History of Magic, asked what it was like, and how he could enjoy a few hours a week of dry facts and useless dates of useless battles. Blaise had stared at him.

"You actually think that's what history is supposed to be like?"

Harry had shifted uncomfortably. "I don't exactly have much experience now, do I? How would I know?"

"Oh my- here, I'll teach you the way it's _supposed_ to be," Blaise had said, dark eyes beginning to sparkle. "History is not just battles, it's magic, love, hate, drama...it's like the best suspense book you'll ever read! Stories about best friends, enemies, traitors to the crown...there's Abe no Seimei, who was this really powerful Japanese wizard sort of like our Merlin, and there's Merlin himself- did you know that a witch named Nimue (or Vivian) who was apprenticed to Morgana Le'Fay herself dosed him with a love potion to get her to teach her his particular brand of magic and then trapped him in a tree with a ritual _he_ had taught her? And then there's Barnabas the Barmy, who tried to teach trolls ballet and ended up getting clubbed to death; the poor guy shouldn't have tried to teach trolls... There's Dr. Dee, who practiced Demonology; really nasty business, that, and then there's Nicholas Flamel- he created the philosopher's stone!"

"What's that?" Harry had a feeling that he should have known that and, if he had been wizard-raised, he probably would have.

"It's a chunk of minerals and potions sediments held together by literal crystalized magic, and you can use it to brew a potion that, if you keep taking it, makes you live forever. Plus, you can literally make gold from it. Like, not transfigured gold or leprechaun gold, I mean the real deal. _Permanent_ gold."

Harry had stared at him. "Whoa."

Now, sitting by the fire in Hagrid's hut with Jewel tucked comfortingly around his neck and listening to Hagrid's stories while Blaise and Susan drank their tea and made an effort to gnaw on the rock cakes, he realized that he already knew what had been in that little brown package. The philosopher's stone. The question was, who exactly had made an attempt to steal it (Harry had a feeling that there were a lot of wizards who would if they could, but there evidently weren't many who could break into Gringotts, if the tone of the yellowed newspaper article was any indicator) and why, exactly, was it "'Ogwarts business?"

Harry put the thought aside after careful consideration, and then forcibly focussed back on the kindly half-giant, who was telling yet another story, about an Acromantula ("a giant spider," Blaise filled him in) which he had kept when he was a student and, when he had been expelled (he wouldn't say why, but Harry decided it might have to do with the killer spider the size of Uncle Vernon's company car) he had let it go into the Forbidden Forest, where it had been his friend ever since, reporting to him a lot of the gossip of the forest, like when to steer clear of the Black Lake because the merfolk were having a fight with the Giant Squid, and who had deposed who in the centaur political circles and when the _percutis_ pox was sweeping the thestral herds.

But he as soon as he had left the hut and the buttery light of the fire behind, the wonder and worry about the philosopher's stone returned full force, and, although still managing to make the correct little noises at the correct times in order to seem as though he was listening to his still-chattering friends, he was still off in his own world. The philosopher's stone. The philosopher's stone! Hagrid had collected it from Gringotts. It seemed that he had taken it to Hogwarts, because Gringotts was unsafe. It logically followed that it was what was on the third floor that no one would enter, although honestly, Harry knew a lot of boys who would be curious and ready to rush of and see exactly what was in that corridor, so it didn't seem like it was very safe at all. And why was the thing hidden in a school, anyway? Why had Nicholas Flamel not kept it, though, if it was not safe? Surely a wizard who Blaise had said was five hundred years old would know how to protect his property...

 _~What isss troubling you?~_ Jewel asked abruptly, once Susan had turned to make her way back to the Hufflepuff commons and Blaise had parted ways on the grounds that he had an essay due in a few days (the Slytherin always studied proactively).

_~You know the tunnel that the headmasster said wasss dangerouss?~_

_~Yesss. I hope you are not planning on going there?~_

_~Isshhtar, no!~_ Harry responded; somehow 'Merlin' came out Ishtar in parseltongue.

_~Then what isss the problem?~_

_~I think that the headmasster isss hiding sssomething there.~_

_~Hiding what?~_

_~The rock which makess you live forever and turns dark metal into shiny yellow metal.~_

_~Oh.~_ Jewel's bright eyes glinted with a serpentine sort of curiosity. _~The hairy large one ssaid that sssomeone attacked the former cache?~_

_~Yesss.~_

_~Ssso you worry that ssomeone will attack it here?~_

_~Yesss.~_

_~Why should it be your consssern?~_

_~Think of the trouble there would be if sssomeone takess it! Think of sssomeone who can never die! And the yellow metal!~_

_~What about it? It sseemsss cold. Ussseless.~_

_~You know how humanss ssspeak of_ 'money' _?~_ Harry had to speak that last in English, because there was just no word for it in parseltongue. They simply had no concept of it.

_~I believe ssso, yesss. I do not underssstand it, though.~_

Harry hesitated, trying to come up with a good way to phrase what he was going to try to explain to her. _~Humanss cannot jussst hunt,~_ he said at last. _~At leassst not all the time. Not only that, but there are thingss we can't hunt for, that have to be made by other humans, and ssso on. We use the yellow metal inssstead asss a ssort of...I don't know...exchange medium. Like, I give the the short frizzy one~_ (that was Hermione Granger) _~A dark-water-feather~_ (that was a quill) _~and sshe givesss_ _me a piece of yellow metal. Then I can give the pretty dark-sskinned one~_ (that was Parvati or Padma Patil) _~the metal, and she gives me a blank talking-leaf.~_ (That was muggle paper.)

Jewel blinked, readjusting herself on his wrist. _~I think I sssee,~_ she said after a moment. _~Humansss are sstrange, though. It sseemsss sso odd to use metal like that, but I sssupposse that you do usse many thingsss ssnakesss don't need, and it would be wonderful not to have to hunt sssometimes. But how do you get the yellow metal? Other than by magic,~_ she added hastily.

_~You work for it.~_

_~What?~_ Jewel asked, and Harry realized that the second word hadn't translated. Snakes didn't have a word for 'work', either.

_~Do thingsss for other humanss for the metal. Sssometimes it is giving them ssomething to get it, or other timess you make sssomething or do ssomething for them that they can't do, do you see?~_

_~W-work,~_ Jewel said thoughtfully, testing out a parseltongue approximation of the word. _~Hmm. But where did the first humans get it?~_

Harry stifled a giggle. She asked as many questions as Granger sometimes, and on as many subjects! _~The firssst humanss dug it out of the ground, I think,~ he responded. ~Not sure how they knew what it was or how it wasss there, though...~_

Jewel gave a giggly little hiss. _~I see.~ A pause. Then: ~Don't you have your talking leaves to do for the motherly one and the stern one?~_

Harry blinked. Then blinked again, and started with a muffled _~wormgutssss!~_ as he realized that his homeworks, an Herbology lab for Sprout and an essay for Mcgonagall, were due the very next day. He was likely going to be spending the rest of the day and most of the night in the greenhouses and then the library. _~Right. Gotta get going. Can you hide again, Jewel?~_

 _~Yesss,~_ the snake replied, burrowing tighter into his scarf and letting Harry cast a notice-me-not on her. _~You'd better finisssh your talking leavesss before they give you a tail-slap.~_


	7. The Snake's Advice

Christmas was in the air, and Harry could smell the spice and pine. Blaise, Hannah, and Harry studied ever so much harder, so as to be ready for the pre-break exams, and the castle began to ready itself for Christmas. Well, to be more specific, the people and house elves began to ready themselves. The Weasley twins took to hanging mistletoe charmed to stick whoever walked under them to the nearest wall until they were kissed; cheek kisses were ok for anyone under 3rd year, two people were related, or if someone was a teacher, but you had to actually kiss on the lips, which was the cause of a good deal of embarrassment among the various students. (These were finally taken down due to the fact that because Argus Filch was the caretaker and not a teacher, he was stuck to the wall for twenty-four hours, until Filius Flitwick managed to break the difficult charm work, and the twins were given detention with said incensed caretaker. Not that it subdued them enough that they stopped their special brand of holiday cheer; they just diverted it to other projects which had not yet been explicitly forbidden, like teaching Peeves inappropriate lyrics to the usual Christmas songs and charming the angel on the top of one of the trees that Hagrid had dragged into the Great Hall to stick a finger up her nose.) The children began to talk about the holidays, too: who would stay and who was going home to their family, and what everyone wanted for Christmas.

Harry was just glad that he was not going to be at the Dursleys' for the holiday. Just being able to have a lie-in and maybe Christmas dinner would be an improvement, and the first time that one of the Hufflepuffs asked him what he was hoping for (of course it was a Hufflepuff; Slytherins would not do something so crass as to _ask_ what someone wanted for Christmas) and he'd just said "Oh, I don't know. My family doesn't do much for Christmas." Well, not for him. Said Hufflepuff had squeaked in total horror, and Harry guessed that they were all planning something, judging by furtive looks and the rapid crinkle of paper being carefully and lovingly fitted around packages that were swiftly hustled out of sight.

Today, however, he was thinking about his own contribution. He knew enough about how normal families and friends worked to know that it was considered polite to give gifts if you wanted to recieve them, but he obviously didn't have anything with him and he was not so good at complex spells that could potentially be used to make a gift that someone might actually want. And, while he was astounding at gift-wrapping (having to wrap twenty or more boxes for Dudley on every possible gift-giving occasion had given him almost preternatural skills in that department) he was not so good at figuring out what to get for anyone, considering that he had never had anyone to give anything to, or resources to get or make something to give. He didn't know what to do, but at last he decided to ask for help, since, upon making a comment to Jewel (whose limited understanding of human culture did not stretch to Christmas traditions) said only that he should get them all prey (which, considering that there was going to be a Christmas feast, would likely end up being both odd and unnecessary).

Harry stewed all through defense, (which, since he had a horrible headache on top of Malfoy trying out the new cutting curse they were learning, _lascero_ , on him definitely qualified as torture) before at last deciding to go seek out Nymphadora Tonks, a clumsy, humorous seventh year whom he felt he knew well enough to confide in but not enough that she would feel sorry for him and make the next few years awkward, considering that she would be graduating soon. He didn't have to tell her everything, either.

"Uh, Tonks?" Everyone knew better than to call her Nymphadora, either to her face or even anywhere where her extra-sharp hearing could pick it up. He didn't know her that well, anyway.

"Oh, hi Harry," the seventh year replied distractedly, messing up a pile of papers about runes and hieroglyphs and basic cursebreaking for aurors, and Harry said "Sorry" and was about to help gather them up when she flicked her wand and all the papers flew back to order in an instant. Harry's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

Her only response was a boisterous laugh. "When you drop your homework on the classroom floor on a regular basis, yeah, you learn," she told him, and Harry felt better.

"Can you teach me?" Harry asked, totally forgetting what he had been about to ask her.

She hesitated. "Sure, I guess," she said at last. "I don't know if you'll have enough power and concentration to pull it off, though, so don't be disappointed if it doesn't work. The incantation is _consistuitese_ , and you have to move your wand like this." She demonstrated. "It takes a _lot_ of practice, though."

Harry tried it on a couple of sheets of paper, but nothing happened even after Tonks had corrected his technique, so at last he gave it up, a little angry with his lack of success. Tonks told him that it was a sixth year spell and not to worry, but Harry was still frustrated even if he knew that technically it was a spell that he wouldn't be required to know for years. In the end, he just picked up the papers and gave them back to Tonks by hand.

Tonks just grinned and took them. "You'll learn them soon enough," she told him. "Anyway, paper organising charms aside, was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Only, I'm kind of studying for the midterm for Runes..."

"Oh, sorry!" Harry replied. "Uh, it's not really that important."

"Oh, I don't mind. I mean, I do have to study at _some_ point, but I'd also rather not, if you know what I mean."

Harry did, of course. He leaned ever so slightly closer, trying to cover his vulnerability, and then finally said: "Um, I just...I need some gift-giving advice, if you've got time. I just don't know what to get people or what's appropriate in the Wizarding World or whatever."

Tonks looked a little surprised, and the tips of her hair tinted turquoise at the ends, but then she just started nodding. "Ok. Well, if you don't know someone that well, like a housemate who's not in your year or whatever, just get them candy or a trick quill or something. Otherwise, I'd say you just watch someone to see what they're like, or ask them. Or you can ask _their_ friends, if you don't want to telegraph that you're getting them a present."

Harry could probably have figured all that out, given time, but it was helpful to have all that laid out in front of him like that. "Thanks, Tonks," he said, and was about to say goodbye and leave her to the tender mercies of her Runes study guide, but then something else occurred to him.

"Wait, how can I buy gifts if I can't leave the castle?"

"Oh, right, you can't just go to Hogsmeade," Tonks exclaimed, as if she had only just thought of that. Granted it was probably true..."Well, I could pick whatever you wanted up for you, and you could pay me back later," she suggested, "And then there are owl-order catalogues, of course."

"Owl-order catalogues?"

"Yeah, they're basically for when you want to send away for something. You just circle whatever you want to buy, tap the order form with your wand, and put your Gringotts code, and then they'll owl you whatever you sent away for. Here," she added impulsively, handing him a thick catalogue. "I'm finished with it anyway, and I think there are still a few forms in it."

Harry took it and stared at it, then started to flip through it. This might actually be the answer to his problems! This would be perfect, except that he wasn't sure where his Gringotts code was, and that he knew that he could likely find without any problems. "Oh, yeah I see. Thank you!"

"Oh, no problem! Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry did not want to keep her from her studying, especially now that he had the catalogue to look through.

"Right then. See you around, Harry?"

"Yeah, sure!"

Tonks' grin was blinding and her hair was oscillating between pink and purple as Harry left, or, to be more specific, left that part of the library. However, as soon as they were out of hearing distance, Jewel popped up from under Harry's collar. _~I don't understand,~_ she commented finally _. ~This human ritual is absurd.~_

Harry, on the other hand, thought that Christmas, now that he was going to actually be allowed to take part, was probably going to be great. _~Oh, I don't know about that. I think that this is going to be fun.~_

 _~Hethi,~_ she began, and Harry straightened up at once- she did not often use the parseltongue bastardization of his name, since snakes usually referred to each other in terms of the relationships they had with one another: sunbrother, sunsister, nestmate, mate, seed-giver, egg-layer, competitors, predators, or prey.

_~What isss it?~_

_~Your enemiesss~_ (she used the word meaning predator here, meaning an enemy which would actively hurt him rather than just taking food and mates away from him) _~might ussse thiss Time-of-Lit-Trees-and-Ssshared-Prey to give you presssentss with food-venom.~_

Harry blinked, trying to parse the snake language. Time-of-Lit-Trees-and-Shared-Prey obviously meant Christmas, but... _~Oh, you mean ssomeone might poissson me?~_

 _~Poisssson?~_ Jewel flickered out her tongue as if to taste the new word. _~If you mean venom that comesss from insssectss that ssssting and plantss that are no good to eat, then yesss. I alssso worry that ssomeone might try to put p-p- oh, Ishtar, I mean food venom in your gorging-day prey.~_

_~Gorging-day prey?~_

_~The prey they give out when it is a sspecial day...what wasss the human word?~_

_~Feasst,~_ Harry told her, and she dutifully repeated the word.

_~Feasst. Right. In any cassse, you shhould probably be on your guard.~_

_~I sssuppose that would be ssafessst,~_ Harry said reluctantly. He did not want to mistrust his friends, but being poisoned with a magic poison did not exactly appeal to him either, for obvious reasons _. ~But asside from that, what on earth sshould I get my friends as presentsss?~_

 _~I don't know. Didn't know the lassst time you asssked me, either,~_ she went on, and Harry blushed. _~The plump kind one [Neville] likesss plantss, sso that isss probably a good ssstart, and the short frizzy one [Hermione] likess talking-leaf-stacksss, sso you could probably get her one on anything and shhhe would read it. I think the pretty dark-skinned ones [Padma and Parvati] like shiny rock-powder and flower-scent, so you could probably get them that, but maybe talk to the happy one and the chatty one [Susan and Hannah] ssssince they know what human femalesss like better than I do. Ssspeaking of the happy one and the chatty one, they would probably like just about anything, but I don't know them too well, sso I sssay sstick to sssweet-prey and fancy dark-water-feathersss. I don't know what the tall dark boy would want, though.~_

Harry grinned at her. _~All of those are good ideas.~_ He paused. _~But...but what should I get for my ssseed-giver?~_

 _~I don't know your sseed-giver that well,~_ Jewel responded. _~And...I don't know much about_ _Time-of-Lit-Trees-and-Ssshared-Prey, but I think it ssshould be from you.~_

_~But I don't know what to get him. What if he doessssn't like it? What if he laughsss? What if he'sss angry?~_

_~Don't tell him who it'sss from. Just send it without a note, or with a note that'ss been magic-written sso that he doesssn't know it'sss you. Then if he likesss it, he likess it, and if he doesssn't, you'll never know.~_

_~But-~_

_~I think if you didn't get him anything, you would be upssset with yourssself. Just get him sssomething nice like some soft-sweet-food or some dizzy-drink or something for hisss stinking-water-mixes.~_

Harry took a moment to translate that. _~Yeah, I guesss. But-~_

_~No butss. Finish reading the commerce leaf-stack and then go get your presssentss. And maybe talk to the other humanss, too- they probably know what iss good. I'm a ssnake, after all. All I want is a nice plump mouse, or maybe a gerbil.~_

Harry filed that last away in his mind for future reference and left the nook in the library for his dorm, still reading the catalogue.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry woke bright and early on Christmas morning, although that was mostly because all of his dorm mates had woken early too, (Merlin forbid that any of them would actually wake him up, but that was what Slytherins were like) and their rustling and tramping around shook him out of his sleep, as he had never been a heavy sleeper, nor a late one. It would have been hard to maintain such a decadent habit at the Dursleys, after all. Harry got up quickly- it was Christmas, after all, and people might start to wonder if he did not get up and rush down to look at any presents he might have, considering how spoiled everyone seemed to think he was. Not to mention that he was curious as to what Christmas was like (outside of preparing the roast and wrapping the presents and hanging holly and lights at age eight). He dressed easily, then, as he had been doing all the time lately, stuck his hand under his bed (where Jewel slept) and let her slither up his arm under his jacket and take her usual snug position around his neck.

 _~Happy Time-of-Lit-Treess-and-Ssshared-Prey~_ Jewel told him, flicking his ear with her long black tongue. Harry giggled, garnering momentary looks of curiosity from the rest of his dorm mates who, while they were too well-bred to rush down to the common room 'like a pack of Hufflepuffs', were evidently still very excited about Yule, especially Draco (although he would have denied it had it been brought up; Malfoys don't _do_ impatient excitement).

 _~Happy Chrisssstmass to you too,~_ he responded out of the corner of his mouth, and reached up to surreptitiously stroke her little dark head. _~I got you a rat, but I had to have the plump kind one keep it for me, because I didn't want thossse of the Queensnake Nest to assk awkward quessstionss.~_ Queensnake Nest meant, of course, Slytherin House.

 _~Thank you, Hethhi,~_ Jewel responded, drawing out the word languidly, her black eyes slitting in pleasure (not that one could see them with her head nuzzled up against Harry's neck under his jacket). _~I will enjoy it. I would catch you ssssomething, but I know you don't eat small-prey. For some reason.~_

Harry giggled again. He might have made some sort of response, but at that moment Draco Malfoy (who had ceased ignoring him but was still not all that pleasant) called "Hey Potter, your adoring public is waiting for you!" and Harry thought it prudent to finish dressing and go down to the common room, not wanting to seem nervous about experiencing the first real Christmas of his life.

He was actually shaking by the time he got to the door that led into the common room. Would anyone have given him gifts? Would they like his? Would Snape like what he had picked for him?

 _~You are trembling, Hethi,~_ Jewel said, radiating concern from her cool little body. _~What isss wrong?~_

_~Do you think I'll have presentsss? Do you think that the tall dark one will like what I got him? Or the short frizzy one? Or the pretty dark skinned ones? Or...~_

Jewel laid her tail across his mouth. _~You are a Bighood. You have emulatorss all over the magic territory, essspecially in this nest. You alsso have plenty of ssunsssiblings. Of course you are going to get pressentsss, Hethi. Asss for your sunsiblingsss, I'm sssure that they'll like whatever you got them.~_

_~But-~_

_"Relax, Hethi.~_ Jewel had taken to saying his name more, as if it were a nod to human culture. Harry just liked that someone was not calling him "Potter" or "boy; the name Hethi seemed all his own, something secret, something that only he and his familiar shared. Something that was his alone. _~Warm your ssscales and go down to the common cave; you're a messss,~_ she went on.

_~Thanksss, I think.~_

_~Welcome,~_ was Jewel's smug reply. _~It'll be fine. At the very leassst, there'll be gorging-day-prey tonight, even if you don't get pressentsss, which I doubt.~_

Harry straightened his spine, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the common room.

"Hi Harry, happy Christmas!" called Tracey as soon as he came in, and every head turned to look at him as he shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

"Happy Christmas to you, too, Tracey," he responded, a little overwhelmed. What was one supposed to say on Christmas? What were the customs and traditions? Were gifts given out in the morning, or the evening, or what? What was one supposed to do besides eat and open presents and (slowly gathering terror) socialize? He might have stood there awkwardly for another ten minutes before he figured out what was permissible and appropriate to do and say, but at that moment, Blaise, as if sensing his awkwardness, saved him.

"Harry, are you going to get your presents? The house elves put them out..."

Harry froze for the merest of seconds. Presents. He actually had presents.

"Harry?"

Harry abruptly snapped out of it. "Oh, yeah. I just-" Harry struggled with something- anything- to say that would not make him sound as though he had practically lived under a rock, even if it were true. On the instant, the words that he was going to say came to him, a comment that would both adequately explain his momentary spacing out and would also help him learn more about the world that he should have grown up in. "What are house elves?"

Blaise blinked. "You don't know what- ohh, right, muggle-raised. Yeah, they're...well...they're a magical race that serves wizards, sometimes as slaves and sometimes having a more equal relationship. It all depends. The point is that a lot of free house elves work for Hogwarts; they're what make the beds and magic the food onto the tables and such."

"Oh. I...oh," said Harry, who'd thought it had all been some sort of complex enchantment.

"I was surprised when I first learned that too," contributed Tracey Davis sympathetically, and Harry was reminded that she was a halfblood, and had had only a little more exposure to the magical world, since her parents had divorced over her magical abilities and she had spent most of her time with her muggle mother. "I thought everything was run by magic, you know, and then I learn about house elves and thestrals and-"

"Thestrals?"

She blushed. "Yes. You know the horseless carriages that the second years all take up to Hogwarts?"

"No, to be honest. I was pretty overwhelmed."

"Yeah. I suppose I was too. I didn't really pay much attention, either, but I was reading a bit later and I came across a section on them. Apparently they're drawn by these bat-winged horse things that you can only see if you've seen death."

"Oh." Harry thought he would have remembered if he had seen bat-winged demonic horses drawing the carriages. "Wait, I thought you said they were horseless?"

"It's because most people can't see the thestrals, you know."

Harry nodded, just the slightest bit lost. He would have to look up thestrals. "Yeah, I can get that," he said, because he did not have anything else to say.

"Oi Potter!"

Harry turned around, and Jewel muttered "well, well, well, what a lovely ssssurprisse. Here come Chunky, Ugly, and Ssslippery," under her breath against his neck, making him nearly choke trying not to let on that he was laughing. It was, of course, Malfoy and his goons. "What is it?" he asked, still trying not to laugh.

"Some wizards don't want to wait until the turn of the century to open their presents," he said. Harry smirked, but Tracey, on the other hand, was less amused.

"How in the Christmas spirit to interrupt two people having a nice conversation," she began, and Harry nearly stifled on the laughter threatening to bubble up in his throat. "You don't have to wait for Harry to open his, either. Just go for it, it's not like it's some sort of formal deal." She frowned. "Unless it is? Tell me there isn't some weird pureblood custom about letting the most famous wizard in the room open his presents first?"

Harry blushed a color that went far beyond pink, edging into garnet red, fervently hoping that that was not actually a thing.

"Sweet Merlin, Tracey!" Daphne broke in, trying to rescue her friend before she further screwed up the Slytherin hierarchy.

Draco Malfoy just fumed. "I wasn't aware it was socially unacceptable to expect the house to open Yule presents together..."

"Yes, but we don't have to be in a hurry, Mr. Malfoy, do we?" that was Lilian Moon.

"Whoa whoa whoa, calm down here," Blaise broke in. "Why can't we have breakfast together and then all open presents together and...do Christmas stuff."

"Do Christmas stuff?" Draco said with a faint sneer that seemed not so much as to show anger but rather just a general mild disdain for whatever Blaise was referring to as "Christmas stuff". He followed that up by arching one silver eyebrow. "What, exactly do you have in mind?"

"I don't know! Have a snowball war and pummel the 'Claws and the Gryffs? Play some kind of maudlin Hufflepuffian game that we all secretly want to play but would never be so undignified as to do it except on Christmas?"

"That's the same thing," muttered an upper year from the corner, and laughs rippled quietly through the common room, dispelling the tension there rather quickly.

"Point _being_ ," Blaise emphasized, "It's bloody Christmas, let's make an attempt to at least try to be nice to each other for a few hours."

The others acted as reluctant as possible to listen, as though actually acting like it was Christmas was somehow some kind of weakness, while Harry watched, bemused. He apparently had a lot to learn.

It took about half an hour of chattering and talking and levitating chocolate frog wrappers at each other (in the case of the younger and more immature years) before they finally all got together in something resembling a line (though it was noticeably more messy than usual) behind the prefects, and headed down to lunch, while Harry mostly kept his mouth shut and watched, trying to get the hang of this whole Christmas thing, and Jewel made comments, sometimes quite amusing, in his ear. All Harry could think about was that he was finally going to learn exactly what Christmas was like when you were with people you cared for, and what he might have gotten for Christmas. In fact, for the first time since the beginning of the term, he was actually almost unable to finish his breakfast (although thankfully, this time it was because of excitement rather than having had very little food over the summer).

And then finally, after a long breakfast mostly consisting of things that were probably too sweet to be considered to be proper breakfast fare (not that it mattered on Christmas morning) everyone returned to the common room, more or less impatiently, to open their presents, although considering that Harry had seen some of the Gryffindors with holiday spoils, and the fact that Padma and Parvati made a point to come over and thank him for the shiny magical lip-balms and lotions and soaps he had gotten them, the Slytherin house had not been as impatient as some.

Harry could scarcely believe his haul. From a boy who had been accustomed to perhaps a pair of used socks if he were lucky, for as long as he could remember, the sheer number of gifts that he had received quite astounded him, as did the thoughtfulness of some of them. He received a note apparently from the entirety of Hufflepuff house to meet them in their common room that evening with any friends that he wanted to bring, for a Secret Santa (one of the muggleborns' ideas) a traditional Yule party (the purebloods had not wanted to be outdone) and a communal gift-unwrapping. Susan and Hannah had added their own notes (on matching tan and gold stationary with little black badgers in the corners and accompanied by miniature wrapped wizarding candies that supposedly glowed in one's mouth which had been stuck to the paper with mild sticking charms) to say that they would have sent their presents, but they had wanted to give them to him in person that night. He also got a book from Hermione Granger (which somewhat surprised him- not the book part, but the part that she had thought to give him a book and that she had chosen one that he might like and find useful: _Wizarding Customs from Around the World_ ), another book from Neville (now that had surprised him, as he had not thought that Neville was particularly bookish.) It turned out that the second book was about the upkeep of wizarding pets and familiars, everything from regular owls and toads to endangered white dream tigers, and Neville had written on the inside cover that he thought that Harry might be interesting in researching the familiar bond, on page 57. Harry had absent-mindedly dog-eared the page and moved on. Padma and Parvati had both pitched together to buy him an expensive broom servicing kit, while the Slytherins' gifts were more generic; chocolate frogs or such from those who wished to curry favor and a potion manual from Blaise, but Harry was deliriously happy that they had thought of him anyway, as he had only gotten gifts for his small circle of friends, as well as a bag of Wizarding candies for each of his two houses as a whole, to share among his housemates. At last he finished unwrapping everything, and then had to just stare at what he had received for a few minutes, much like a young dragon with his very first hoard.

"Wow, Potter, that's a lot of stuff!"

"Yeah," Harry responded noncommittally, not sure what Draco was angling for. "I suppose so." At that, he carefully began to fold the tissue paper, wrapping, and ribbon, stacking the empty cardboard boxes neatly next to the pile of spoils for the house elves to dispose of if his housemates didn't toss them in the fire first. Then he went back to his somewhat reverent fingering of the gifts.

"Dear Merlin, have you never had gifts before? Your eyes are the size of saucers!"

Harry stilled. Damn. Mustn't let the whole house know how much of a freak he was. He was frozen for only the briefest of seconds, after which Jewel brought him back to his senses with a gentle nip, without full fang extension and, of course, without venom, but enough to shock him back into motion. Nor had any of the other wizards noticed, except perhaps for Blaise, who was watching him with kind and non-judgemental black eyes. "What, must I beg your permission to look at my own gifts, your royal arse-ness?"

Several of the girls, including Tracey and Lilian, laughed or giggled behind handkerchiefs, while Daphne affected a falsely dramatic scandalized look and Draco flushed a deep red. "You watch it, Potter!"

"What, the gifts? That's what I was doing?"

That garnered a second round of giggles and groans, and Draco's entire face went a nice red, nearly the color of the Bloody Baron's gashes. Draco opened his mouth to say something that was no doubt even more offensive and biting, but Harry, who didn't want to deal with any more drama at the moment, announced that he was going up to put his gifts away, and made a swift get away, Blaise following.

It was as he was packing everything except a couple of chocolate frogs and the book Neville had gotten him away in his trunk (no sense making it easier for his dorm mates to poke their noses into his business) that he saw the squashy package on his pillow, wrapped in a paper so bright that it might have been able to cause temporary blindness. It was obviously a gift, and, judging by the name scrawled on the side with muggle marker, it was for him, but if it was, then why was it on his pillow, instead of with the other gifts? Why didn't whoever who had sent it to him want him to open it with other people around? Was it a trap?

 _~Well? Do you think it'sss a trap?~_ Harry asked Jewel, nudging the package with his wand. Said wand released a shower of harmless orange sparks, but Harry knew that the one little detection spell he had learned would likely be no match for something powerful and complex, if there was even a harmful spell on it at all.

 _~It doesss not sssmell like rotten magic,~_ Jewel responded, poking her head out of his collar for a better look. Harry was too absorbed in his contemplation of the mysterious package to hear Blaise's faint startled gasp at the parseltongue and at the venomous snake that it was addressed to. _Ssstill, I do not know if it isss ssafe.~_

Harry carefully cast a spell to unwrap it without touching it (one of the few useful charms that Flitwick had taught them about right before the holidays) and then stared. Because what came out of it, besides a note on a beautiful and personal imagery, was a cloak, silvery and ancient and powerful, like water woven into cloth. Blaise gasped again, this time louder, and Harry whirled around with a start, while Jewel hastily tucked her head down.

"Relax," Blaise said calmly, holding up his hands palm forward, despite the fact that he had not looked exactly relaxed for quite some time. "I'll keep your secrets. Even if you got a bloody _invisibility cloak_ for Christmas."

Harry glanced down at the cloak with even more interest than before. "Is that what it is?"

"Yeah," Blaise replied, smiling a little. "They're really rare and really valuable, though; it's because of the complicated runes and potions that you have to use on the fabric to turn it into a real, honest-to-goodness invisibility cloak instead of just a demiguise-hair pullover. And...I think you'll need to get it checked out for traps, unless you know who sent it."

"Yeah, that's, uh, probably a good idea," Harry responded, still reeling from that fact that Blaise had stated that he would keep his secrets. "And no, I don't know who sent it," Harry went on, examining the paper that had fallen out of the cloak onto his bed. "I'll probably have to take it to Snape. Blaise, do you really mean that you'll keep my secrets?"

"When do I ever say anything I don't mean?" Blaise responded, without really answering the question. Then, at last: "I swear upon my magic not to tell as long as it is not something that will threaten your life or others. I'm not a Death Muncher, Harry, and I have mind shields up so telepaths can't read me."

"Then...maybe could I talk with you after I go down to talk to Snape to make sure the cloak is safe?"

"I'll do one better; I'll just come with," Blaise responded.

And so that was how it was that two wizards, one of them disillusioned in more ways than one (Blaise had once longed to join the Dark Lord, but the memory and eyewitness and secondary reports of the atrocities had been enough to prevent him from truly longing for it anymore) came to be waiting outside Professor Snape's office drawer, bracing themselves, for the talk to com.


	9. Chapter 9

It was an incontrovertible fact that Severus Snape was not fond of Christmas. He had not truly celebrated it since he had had that fight with Lily; he'd had no interest, nor had he had any true friends to celebrate it with. He'd received the various pointless trinkets and cards that the staff exchanged among themselves, of course, and gone to the annual Malfoy Yule ball, as well as enduring whatever inanities that Dumbledore decided to foist on the inhabitants of Hogwarts each year, but it was, at best, a half-hearted display of cheer.

After all, what use did he have for extra books and socks and bottles of cheap firewhiskey, and why should he bother buying them for others who would doubtless be just as tired of them as he? Why would he want to go to a ball notorious for the two worst kinds of wizards- politicians and Death Eaters- and nod and smile and pretend that Madame Lilith's cosmetic potions were a truly remarkable achievement in the field, or reminisce with Crabbe and Mcnair about the good old days of muggle baiting? And why, in Merlin's name, would he look forward to a holiday tainted with memories of being dragged bodily into the Evans' house by a singing Lily, eyes shining with the joy of the season, and put to work making ten different kinds of candies and biscuits, while Mrs. Evans smiled indulgently and sat an embarrassed Severus down at the table with the family to enjoy all the freshly baked and mixed treats?

No, Lily was dead, and she had been lost to him long before that. Now all he had to look forward to was the same hopeless pattern of pointless gift-giving and party-going, exhausting staff functions, and infuriating detentions to give out after the inevitable snow battles and holiday pranks and general shenanigans brought on by a surfeit of sugar and boundless enthusiasm. And today promised to be the same as every other Christmas before it and every one that would follow, at least until he was done to death by Death Eaters or perhaps Dumbledore's infernal "ice-breaking" games each year.

It was not. The day started like every other holiday- he woke at the usual time, dressed in his customary dark teaching robes, warded as heavily as armor, and headed down to the Great Hall to drink a fortifying cup of coffee, sidestepping the small stack of packages that the house elves had left in his front room- he would open them later. The hall was already crowded, of course, as those of the little simians masquerading as students that had remained at Hogwarts were especially excitable this morning, and he already had the beginnings of a tension headache forming in the front of his skull, which Albus's loud "Happy Christmas, Severus!" did nothing to help. Severus stewed in silence, gulping his coffee to discourage his colleagues from trying to talk to him.

The first inkling that the day was _not_ going to go according to his expectations came when an owl landed in his porridge.

Now, in Hogwarts that unusual phenomenon happens more than one would expect. Owls- even official mail owls- are still animals, after all. Some are trained more thoroughly than others, but of course no bird, no matter how well trained, does not have its occasional caprices and failings, and there is always the chance that one might be ill or injured. In this case, however, it was none of those things. The reason this particular bird was not very large, and as it had struggled to land it had overbalanced itself with the neatly wrapped package it had been carrying and had toppled over into said breakfast with a miserable churring sound. Severus simply stared at it for a moment, then hesitantly tapped the package with his wand. It gave a little shower of purple sparks, and his eyes widened. It was warded. Not warded as in "this is top secret and will only be able to be opened by the intended receiver" or as in "this will kill you if you don't take it to a cursebreaker in a dragonhide bag". No. The kind of warding that meant that whatever resided in that box was probably as fragile as Felix Felicis before the hens' teeth were added in the thirty-third step.

Severus frowned. His first inclination was to hand it to Sinistra, who was sitting next to him, as she would be much more likely to receive this kind of gift or order, but it had his name on it, albeit in the loopy, stylized penmanship that denoted the use of a rather expensive quik-quotes quill. So it _was_ meant for him. But who could have sent it? It might have been one of his usual orders of rare ingredients, but the slightly sloppy warding and the lack of an invoice and return address rendered that theory unlikely, and last Severus had checked Hogarth's Potions Supply Depot didn't giftwrap their orders in tasteful silver paper. But who else could it be from? No student, except perhaps some of his Slytherin upper years, had ever dared (or cared) to get him a present, and the few that did always had some sort of ulterior motive, like the good little Slytherins that they were, which, due to the fact that the package had no return address, seemed unlikely; it couldn't be a bribe if he did not know who had sent it. The same went for any former students or yearmates, too, and it did not show even so much as a spark of dark magic when he subjected it to a surreptitious scan. So what was it, and who in Merlin's name had sent it?

Something was nipping at his fingers. He glanced away from the package with a little start, only to see the fluff-ball of an owl that had brought him the package nipping at him impatiently for a snack. He absent-mindedly fed it a bite of bacon, glaring at it a little for daring to break his concentration, when all at once he noticed the golden hieroglyph on its wing (not-toxic and noninvasive) that marked it as a school owl. A school owl! So the sender had to be living at Hogwarts or at least in Hogsmeade, because no one else would have access to a school owl or feel the need to use one. Severus stared at the package for a bit longer, thoughts still marinating, before finally giving it up with a huff. He would just have to open it later, in the comfort and security of his warded rooms. Perhaps the name tag from the sender had simply fallen off, and more clarification would be within? Severus pulled it out of his breakfast, cast a cleaning spell, and simply set it by his plate. The he looked at the porridge again. He could have probably just have cast a decontamination spell, but there is, of course, always a limit to how well such spells work, and he had rather lost his appetite anyway. The little clump of white fluff on the edge of the bowl did not make its contents any more appetizing, either. He picked it up and rose.

"Severus! You're not eating with us? It's Christmas!"

Trust Dumbledore to try to keep him here, when the best Christmas present he could imagine would be a few hours to do his own research away from nosy interfering colleagues (and headmasters) and, of course, the little dunderheads. "No thank you, Headmaster, I have a potion that urgently needs my attention. I promise I will...attend the festivities this evening." Translation: he needed to get out of here _now_ , Christmas cheer be damned, to ensure that he would not strangle the little dunderheads, and if everything went well he could stay holed up in his rooms until Dumbledore dragged him out for whatever pointless and likely headache-inducing event that would take place that evening. The only potion that needed his attention at the moment was the headache reliever that he would be brewing as soon as humanly possible.

"Surely it can wait half an hour..."

"No, I'm afraid it cannot, Headmaster," Severus replied, and made his escape before the damned old man could try to draw him into conversation. He could swear that Dumbledore _enjoyed_ ruining his holidays, if the twinkle in those sky blue eyes was to judge.

The halls he passed were draped with all sorts of greenery that were obviously meant to be cheerful but only served to remind Severus how many ingredients (oranges, mistletoe, cranberries, holly, and various spices and leaves) were being wasted in a fruitless attempt to improve upon the already majestic and beautiful old castle. Peeves burst out of a wall once, singing an inappropriate rendition of Deck the Halls "Break a window, pop a tire, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la..."

Severus snarled at him, but he only gave an impish wink and continued on with "Set your brother's pants on fire," zooming off before Severus could hex him. _That_ was when the Weasley twins showed up.

Severus was ready to scream by the time he made it back to his private quarters. He did, in fact (under a silencing charm, of course). Then he untied his cloak and let it slither to the floor. It was only then that he realized that he had yet to open the mysterious gift. Well, no time like the present...

He set it on the floor of his chambers- no need to ruin a perfectly good coffee table if it turned out to hold something explosive (and it was common knowledge that those wizards who didn't mind 'slumming' used muggle explosives sometimes, to prevent detection and magical tracking) and opened it with his wand, for fear of contact poisons or cleverly-hidden wards.

There was no magic except the quiet hum of protective wards, but inside the box was all lined with a yellowish paper that sent shivers down his spine. _Exleporem_. Paper that, just as waxed paper repels water, repels magic, used only for two reasons: the first being to protect delicate magical artifacts and the other to conceal traps. Severus closed his eyes, then carefully drew the box towards him, making sure to touch to outside only. When it was close enough, he warily glanced inside. And gasped.

It was _not_ concealing a trap. At least, not of the magical or muggle variety. A political trap...well, perhaps. Because who would send him enameled cerberus teeth, fire-flowers, phoenix ash, kitsune fur, and yuki onna hair (fresh, too, if the frost lining the phial was any indication) without some sort of ulterior motive? Any one of those things was worth half his month's salary, after all. But what would be the use of a bribe if he did not know who sent it?

Severus stared down at the box in dead silence, before going straight to his lab to put the ingredients away and possibly even play with them a little before he had to go do whatever inane thing Albus had thought up to waste his time. He probably shouldn't have taken the ingredients out at all...but he was far too Slytherin not to take an advantage, even if it might complicate matters later. Though if it came down to it, he could probably talk fast enough to save his neck. Merlin only knew that one of his few better attributes was his silver tongue...

Only the Cerberus teeth ended up being put away that morning. Severus got distracted with the rare ingredients almost immediately, and was before long scribbling arithmantic equations on a spare piece of parchment, as, while putting the fire-flowers away with a special potion master's stasis, he caught sight of a squat little pot of fluxweed, and was struck by the idea of exchanging kitsune fur for the fluxweed in polyjuice to see if it would make the transformation last longer. Severus had entirely lost all perception of time within minutes, and had actually progressed to trying to brew a workable prototype...when all at once he heard the tell-tale chime which meant that a student had brushed against his office wards.

It was a good thing that the potion was at a stage where it could safely be put into stasis, because otherwise he might have been tempted to ignore the chime, or do something most unpleasant to the perpetrators of the disruption, like make them clean the outside of the astronomy tower with their toothbrushes. As it was, he was very much annoyed, but at least all his work wouldn't be wasted.

Sighing, he cast Master's Stasis, took a breathable cotton cloth from one of his drawers and put it over the cauldron to ensure dust couldn't get in (a conjured cloth would have disruptive spell residue) and made his way down the passage Hogwarts had made for him as a shortcut between his rooms and office. At last he had entered the office from the back.

A tentative knock sounded in the darkened room. Severus lit the torches with a lazy flick of his wand, then marched to the door, fully prepared to verbally eviscerate whatever fool had dared disturb him on Christmas day.

At the third knock, he yanked open the door, fury already bubbling up in the back of his throat. And he stopped dead. Two of his little Slythers were waiting nervously for him there, and around them were the fading shimmer of concealment spells. Why were two of his students, even Slytherins, visiting him on Christmas day? And why were they trying to do it in secret (which they were, judging by the fading spells shimmering around them)?

And that's when he realized the identity of one of them.

"Potter." Why was it always Potter? He tried to at least keep a civil tongue in his head, in keeping with the spirit of the season, but were it not for his formidable occlumensy shields, it would have been a losing battle. "What do you need?"

Nervous green eyes met his, then darted away before he could probe them. "Please, sir..." He trailed off.

"Please what?"

"Can you check this for traps?" And the boy pulled out a piece of silky, silvery cloth that Severus had wished that he would never, ever see again: Potter Sr's invisibility cloak.


End file.
